


Flawed, Yet Still So Perfect

by ItalysPasta



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 88,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItalysPasta/pseuds/ItalysPasta
Summary: Lovino (South Italy) is a college freshman who has always struggled to get along with people, while Antonio (Spain) is a promising soccer player and a sophomore in the same college. Lovino keeps feeling inferior to the talented and good-looking Spaniard, but their roles are eventually switched when the Spaniard's promising future faces a setback, leaving him utterly lost and with nothing to fall back on.





	1. Prologue

"Huh? Is that all you can do?" The boy in front of him sneered, eyes gleaming viciously as he stared down at the Italian. He had a strangely flattened nose, small eyes and thick, bushy eyebrows. He was wearing the school basketball team's red-and-yellow jersey with a dark brown leather jacket thrown over his shoulders.

"Sneak around with that bitchy look on your face like the little punk you are?" The boy took another step towards Lovino, a malicious grin on his ugly face. Lovino could hear the bully's friend snort from where he stood a couple yards to his left, hands stuffed in his sweatpants pockets and a sports bag slung over one of his broad shoulders.

Lovino's grip on his backpack strap tightened, and he lifted his chin to face the bastard standing in front of him, close enough to poke him in the chest by the mere extension of his arm. Unlike most of the students, who had long ago learned not to bother him, these particular jerks just couldn't seem to leave him alone.

"At least _my_ face doesn't look like someone just stepped on it with a shoe dipped in shit." He continued to return the glare he was being given, almost proud of the reaction his words evoked in the bully: His vicious grin was now gone, the muscles in his jaw were strained as his eyes narrowed, still focused on the Italian before him.

"You little shit…" He hissed, leaning even closer towards the shorter boy, his intention obviously to intimidate him.

His friend merely chuckled, a sly smirk on his tan face, his dark hair sleeked back with a few wavy strands hanging over his eyes. "Chill, dude. No wonder no one wants to hang out with this kid." His smirk grew wider as he removed one of his hands from his pocket to push some of the stray strands of hair off his forehead.

Lovino could feel his ears and face grow unpleasantly hot as the disgusting grin reappeared on the bastard's face in front of him.

"Looks like somebody's mommy failed to teach manners to her cute little son, huh?" It was the tanner, taller one of the two again, the smirk still intact on his face.

His friend let out another snicker in front of the Italian, opening his mouth to say something that nobody got the chance to hear. It was at this point that the anger which had been steadily building up in Lovino's stomach finally culminated, and before he even knew it himself, his hand had shot out to grab the front of the boy's jersey.

"Keep your filthy mouth shut you little…" Lovino raised up his chin and spat the words at the taller boy's face, blood rushing in his ears as he kept his grip hard on the slick fabric.

Before Lovino could say anything more, the boy he was still holding by the jersey recovered from his initial surprise and grabbed his wrist, intending to get the Italian off of him. He was much stronger than Lovino, who could feel his wrist being wrung painfully in his grip. However, Lovino's rage was far from subsiding, and as his grip on the boy's jersey finally came detached, he simply clenched his fist and swung it into his face, hitting him right in his already flat nose.

The Italian stared at the boy sprawled on the floor in front of him, blood trickling from under the hand he was holding to his nose. He was still breathing heavily, both fists clenched tight, the right one painfully throbbing from the hard blow he had just delivered. His eyes shifted from the boy on the floor to the one still standing, both hands now out of his pockets, a mixture of shock and anger on his tan face. He was clearly trying to decide whether to help his friend or attack Lovino.

What had just got into him? That bastard had deserved it, but still, this was bad... He knew he couldn't afford an another incident like this, not now when he had already received several warnings...

He turned around, planning to run off, only to find himself face to face with his PE teacher, Mr. Morris. His stomach dropped. Mr. Morris was the last person he would have wanted to see at the moment, but there he was, looming a good seven inches above him with his bulky frame, unmistakably fuming at him.

"Bailey, escort Wells to the nurse's office. Vargas, you're coming with me." His voice was as hard as steel, his eyes boring straight into Lovino's as he motioned him to follow. He turned back to the direction he had come from, leading the young Italian down the corridor towards the headmaster's office, a place he had already become way too familiar with.

Lovino was soon sat down in a wooden chair, facing the headmaster who was now examining him carefully from behind his desk. He was approximately in his late fifties, with a bald spot on the top of his head and a penetrating look in his eyes. Most of his desk was hidden under numerous orderly piles of paper that he had been carefully going through before Lovino and Mr. Morris had stepped through the door.

Mr. Morris, who had slightly calmed down after arriving in the office, had started explaining the situation he had witnessed in the corridor to the headmaster, while Lovino stared down at his lap where he was clutching together his sweaty hands. He kept biting his teeth together as the anger which had momentarily been drowned out by dread started to make its return.

He had only hit that jerk because he and his idiot buddy had stepped over the line. How did those bastards dare bring up his mother, of all the things they could possibly say? They didn't know anything about his family. They didn't know anything about his life! And now he was in a total mess, just because those damn bastards couldn't leave him alone. He knew damn well that Mr. Morris wouldn't listen to a thing he had to say, not when both Bailey and Wells were starting players in the school's basketball club, while he was just that troublesome, bad-tempered kid with no friends.

"...I saw him swing a punch at Wells and hit him right in the nose. I had to send him to the nurse's office with the nosebleed he got. Neither of them had tried to attack Vargas-"

"They were asking for it!" Lovino asserted, unable to hold back his angry response for any longer, his voice coming out harsher than he'd meant. "Those bastards didn't know when to shut up-"

"Mr. Vargas!" The headmaster raised his voice, fixing his grey eyes at the Italian in a warning look. "You should not purposefully interrupt a teacher, nor use that kind of language in my office."

"As you can see, sir, Mr. Vargas here clearly cannot control himself. And as you know, this is hardly the first time he's gotten himself into a situation like this."

"Thank you, Mr. Morris. I'm afraid I will have to consider expelling you, Mr. Vargas. Any violent behavior is strictly against the school rules, as you well know, and we cannot simply continue to overlook your behavior." The headmaster spoke in a calm but strict tone, keeping his eyes at the red faced boy in front of him.

After that, everything seemed to happen way too fast. All Lovino could do was sit there in the uncomfortable wooden chair as the headmaster called his grandpa, briefly explaining the situation and asking him to fetch his grandson and take him home. It took a while for everything to sink in to Lovino's consciousness. This time, he wouldn't be let off with a warning. He was going to get expelled. Grandpa Roma was on his way to pick him up. The thought of having to deal with his grandpa outright horrified him: This was so far the biggest mess he'd got himself into, and he knew he would by no means be let off easy. He knew that all too well, yet there was nothing he would be able to do about it anymore.

He kept sitting quietly in his chair, a heavy weight resting at the bottom of his stomach. The headmaster soon went back to his paperwork and Mr. Morris finally left the office. Most of his anger had already deflated, and all that remained was dread and embarrassment. He had once again done something that would make his grandpa disappointed - more so than probably ever before. Something that strengthened the notion that he was the disagreeable one, the troublesome one.

It took no more than thirty minutes for Grandpa Roma to arrive at the office. Thirty minutes of anxious silence, followed by the sensation of every muscle in Lovino's body tensing as his grandpa finally stepped into the small office, coat hanging on one shoulder like he had been in too much of a hurry to even properly pull on his outwear, regardless of the cool weather. He cast a single, dangerously expressionless look on Lovino, then turned his attention to the headmaster, briefly apologising for the trouble, his tone polite but strained with detained tension. It didn't take long before they left the office, Lovino silently following in his grandpa's trail as they walked to the parking lot and got in the car.

The car ride home went by in total silence: Grandpa Roma didn't speak a word to Lovino, and Lovino didn't really have anything to say to him, either. All he could do was sit quietly at the back of the car, occasionally gazing out of the window, even though there was nothing interesting to see outside. The weather was cold and rainy and all of the buildings they drove past looked the same. As the surging anger had completely left his body by now, Lovino's hands were starting to feel cold and stiff in his lap. The only times his grandpa took his eyes off the road were when he had to glance at the rear view mirror, and even then he completely ignored his grandson.

Even in his physically still state, Lovino's mind was racing with thoughts. How did he always manage do get himself into trouble? He should've known better. He should've considered the fact that whatever mistake he made, nobody would hesitate to put all the blame on him. Nobody would try to look at the matter from his point of view, nobody would try to give him even a little understanding. Not with the way he was. If he were someone like his brother... Heck, if he were even a little more likable, somebody might've put a little more effort into understanding him. But what could he do? He wasn't like that. He wasn't like everybody's beloved Feliciano, and he knew that all too damn well.

Lovino felt like he should've got mad at his grandpa for deliberately acting like he was nothing but thin air as they drove past more and more rain-soaked grey buildings, but somehow he just felt too downbeat for the anger to properly resurface in him. If it had been anyone but his grandpa in the driver's seat, he probably wouldn't have remained silent. In the current state of affairs, however, he was stuck sitting at the back of the car with a dull throb in his right fist, the heavy silence broken only by the low hum of the car engine and the sound of rain steadily hitting the car roof.

The silence didn't break until Lovino followed his grandpa into their small apartment and closed the door behind himself, the weight in his stomach heavier than ever. Grandpa Roma sat him down at the kitchen table, pulling himself a chair and sitting down to finally face his grandson. There was a demanding, close to furious look in his eyes, even though the rest of his face still remained blank.

Lovino met his eyes without wavering, even though his face muscles felt painfully taut. He felt his nails dig into his palms as he refused to break the eye contact. He wouldn't allow himself to act like a scared child in front of his grandpa, however intimidating he was.

"Explain." The single, sharp word finally broke what had probably been Lovino's life's most agonizing silence so far.

Lovino blinked, his eyes flickering back to his hands, which he had grown tired of staring at during the past hour. "I thought the headmaster already explained you", he muttered, his voice coming out flat yet strained, his throat suddenly feeling sore.

"Indeed. So you have nothing to add to that?"

Lovino could hear the tension in his grandpa's voice as he was clearly struggling to keep it composed. He could feel the glare that was being fixed at him, but continued to keep his own eyes down, giving up the battle of wills. The tips of his ears were growing incredibly hot, and he was sure his face was quickly gaining color as well.

"Nothing to justify your actions with?" The strain in Grandpa Roma's voice was increasing, each word trembling with detained anger.

Lovino felt his nails dig deeper into his palms as he clenched his fists tighter, watching as his knuckles started to turn white. His right fist was still throbbing from when it had collided with that damn bastard's nose.

"Do you have any idea of what you have just done?" Now Grandpa Roma was almost shouting, quickly losing the rest of his composure. "Do you even realize that you have managed to get yourself _fucking expelled_!" The last two words came out as an exasperated cry as he slammed his fist into the table, sending a jolt through the solid piece of furniture.

Lovino drew in a sharp breath, a wave of anger surging through his body once again. "I KNOW!" He jumped out of his chair, his voice coming out as a chocked cry, his arms trembling as he clutched the edge of the wooden table. "I know, right? I always cause everyone trouble, that's all I fucking do!" He glared down at his grandpa, all sense of dread and hesitation suddenly gone. The old man looked slightly taken aback by his sudden outburst, brows creased in a faint frown as he faced his grandson.

"I'm not like Feli." This time Lovino's voice trembled for a completely different reason. "I know, okay?" He breathed out the last three words, not even bothering to care about the fact that they came out a little shaky. His heartbeat started to return to normal as he stood there for a few more seconds, letting his arms hang by his sides. Then he turned around and marched off into the solitude of the room he shared with his brother, who was yet to come home from school.

He climbed the ladder to the top bunk of the bunk bed that occupied most of the space in the cramped room, slumping down onto his mattress and bringing his folded arms over his face as he lay on his back. He could feel the unshed tears finally start to sting in his eyes, and he let them trickle down his face without sparing any effort to hold them back. He eventually fell asleep from the day's exhaustion, his mind too tired to worry about the mess he had got himself into.


	2. Chapter 2

Lovino lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling above him with only half-focused eyes. It felt like miles away, compared to the view from his upper bunk back at home. It was nearly dark in the campus flat, the only light coming from the window on the wall opposite to his bed, and the door peephole in the other end of the room. The only sounds he could hear were the occasional steps from the hallway, softened by the wall-to-wall carpeting, and the faint chattering from the neighboring rooms, accompanied by a burst of laughter every now and then.

It was still almost hard for him to believe that he was actually there, that he would actually begin his first semester of college the next morning, regardless of all the trouble he'd been through in high school. It hadn't been the courses that had posed him problems, as he had always found schoolwork relatively easy, but the same couldn't be said about his relations to his fellow students. That had always been what got him into trouble, whether it was in elementary school or in high school.

He had been constantly stuck between the recurring incidences where he lost his temper at school, and going home only to hear his grandpa yell at him. It wasn't the frustration or the lecturing that had really got to him, though. The angry reactions had always been something he could handle, something he knew how to counter. It had been that look of disappointment and weariness on his grandpa's face that had left Lovino at a loss, no matter how hard he had tried to stay angry. That look had never failed to let him know just how much of a headache he really was.

And then there was his little brother, Feliciano, who was cheerful and amiable, and got along with nearly anyone. As it was, he had close to nothing in common with Lovino, even though the two brothers looked very much alike with their small frame and similar features. This obvious contrast between the two made the disappointed looks Lovino received from his grandpa sting even more: He knew his brother would never cause such trouble or give Grandpa Roma a reason to look at him like that.

Lovino's thoughts drifted back to when he had been about to leave home early that morning with his grandpa, who had been the one to drive him to his new school. Feliciano tended to get motion sickness during long car rides, and so they had thought it to be best for him to stay at home. It had been 5 AM, and despite of the fact that he hated early mornings, Feliciano had clung to his older brother, teary-eyed and wearing only his pajamas, until Grandpa Roma had had to detach him and escort him back to his bunk so that the two could take their leave.

It hadn't been until when he had stood there in front of the apartment door, soothingly patting his little brother on the back while he sleepily wrapped his arms around him, both hugging him and leaning against him for support at the same time, that it had fully sank into Lovino's understanding: He was moving out. He wouldn't be sleeping his next night in his bunk above Feliciano's, and when he woke up in the morning, he would be in a totally new environment, in a totally new town.

Even though that sudden realization had evoked many feelings within Lovino, including anxiousness and homesickness, he still hadn't doubted for a second that he'd made the right decision. He had always wanted to have a life of his own, somewhere where no one expected him to be something he wasn't, somewhere where he could finally be free from all that pressure he had continuously been feeling until then. And he had been certain that in order to achieve that freedom, he would have to leave home.

Lovino yawned, rolling over to his stomach and burying his face in his fresh pillow. Somehow it felt like the miles distancing him from his home town had also made all those bitter memories feel more distant and less significant to him. After arriving at the campus and unpacking his little belongings, he had felt a strange sense of freedom he had never experienced before, like he could finally breathe properly for the first time in his life.

Resting his chin on his pillow, arms folded on the mattress in front of him, the young Italian felt a tingling sense of excitement in his stomach, a sensation he wasn't quite used to. It wasn't like the negative kind of jittery nervousness he'd felt countless times while lying awake in his bunk, unable to fall asleep. Instead, it was a much more pleasant feeling, prompted by his anticipation for what awaited him in the near future, holding only the slightest bit of that old anxiousness.

**xxx**

It was a windy Friday afternoon in early September, two weeks after the fall semester had started. The old college town was full of life: The shops and cafés around the plaza were crowded with students who were eager to escape the unusually chilly weather, chatting in large groups or sipping coffee with their textbooks spread on the café tables before them. Thick, grey clouds shrouded the sky above the cobblestone streets, and the smell of incoming rain hung in the air.

Lovino sped up his pace, hands tucked in the pockets of his thin summer jacket and hood pulled over his head. It looked like the rain could start coming down at any minute, and the Italian wanted to get his errands done before that. He would only have to buy the fresh tomatoes he needed for his pasta sauce, and then he could finally head back to the campus and spend the rest of the day in the warmth and comfort of his flat.

He strode down the walk edging the town square, soon reaching the front of the small vegetable shop he was headed for. He had discovered it already during his first week of college, after finding out that the tomatoes sold in the nearby supermarket were barely second-rate quality. Lovino pulled open the door, registering the sound of the bell ringing somewhere inside the store, which was currently empty of other customers. He stepped through the doorway while pushing off his hood and hastily smoothing down his hair.

"Hello!" a cheerful voice immediately greeted him from the back of the room, and Lovino found himself faced with a brown-haired young man wearing a dazzling smile on his tan face while holding a box of tomatoes in his arms.

Lovino, who was caught off guard by the sudden attention, came to an abrupt stop as the door behind him swung closed and a light breeze of air hit him in the back of his head. The young shop assistant was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his toned forearms, his brown hair was a wavy mess, and his eyes were a vivid shade of emerald green.

"What can I help you with?" The brunet asked in his cheerful tone, seemingly unbothered by the lack of response from Lovino, who still hadn't moved from his spot in front of the door.

"Uh… I came to buy some tomatoes." The Italian finally stammered out, feeling the tips of his ears grow unpleasantly hot. What was going on with him? Surely it wasn't the first time a shop assistant had decided to talk to him, and even though it did usually make him feel somewhat uncomfortable, it wasn't like he totally froze in his tracks each time someone greeted him with a hello.

"Oh, tomatoes!" The young man looked delighted at the mention of the particular vegetable, and, for the first time since Lovino had stepped through the door, he finally took his emerald eyes off him. He carefully placed the large box he was holding on the stool beside him, picking up a single tomato with his left hand, only to toss is up in the air and neatly catch it with his right while turning back to the Italian. "You came to the right place - we have the best tomatoes in town!"

Lovino had to agree with him on that, as the tomatoes he'd previously bought from the store had indeed been excellent. However, he was too busy trying to figure out his impression of the chatty shop assistant to say anything in reply. Usually, Lovino found extremely talkative and extroverted people like him merely irritating, but there was something about that bright smile and vibrant green eyes that made Lovino unable to look at him without feeling the tips of his ears burn with inexplicable heat.

It didn't take long before the young shop assistant had filled a small paper bag with perfectly red, ripe tomatoes, while casually chatting to Lovino the entire time, flashing him one of those bright smiles each time he glanced at him. Lovino only answered him with a short shake of his head when asked if he would like to have anything else from the shop, and finally left his spot in front of the door to meet the taller male at the counter.

"So, you're a student here, right?" The brunet asked while weighing the bag of tomatoes on an electronic scale, raising his eyes back to Lovino with a curious look on his tan face.

Lovino made the mistake of meeting his eyes, stunned by how beautiful they looked from up close: They were a brilliant shade of emerald green, and held a warm sparkle that fit well with the cheerful smile that never seemed to leave his lips. Lovino quickly lowered his gaze, feeling his heart beat considerably faster than just a moment ago. He immediately felt both embarrassed and frustrated at himself, and he desperately hoped his ears weren't as red as he feared them to be.

 _"Sì"_ , he answered the question he had been posed with a slight delay, this time managing to keep himself from stuttering. A characteristic frown on his face, he fixed his eyes at the brunet's chest and the name badge on it: The white-and-green plate read 'Antonio' with curvy letters.

"Which college?" The young shop assistant, Antonio, asked him in his friendly tone, sneaking a quick glance at him before going back to pushing some buttons on the cash register. The wavy locks that hung just above his green eyes were a rich shade of brown. It seemed like everything about this young man was vibrant and colorful, and he had a casual air of confidence to him.

"Liberal arts. Just round the corner", The Italian dug his wallet from one of his jacket pockets, suddenly happy to have something concrete to grasp in his fidgety hands. He found that it was much easier to talk to the brunet while his attention wasn't focused solely on him.

"Really?" Antonio lost his interest in the cash register again, his lips spreading into a blindingly bright smile as he again faced the Italian, whose eyes were still fixed at the wallet he was twiddling in his hands.

"Me too! You must be a freshman, then?"

The Italian almost dropped his wallet at the sudden piece of information, then quickly nodded in reply while struggling to regain his composure. The brunet's words had managed to get his heart racing again, along with his mind. Antonio went to the same college as him? Now that Lovino thought about it, it probably shouldn't have been such a big surprise to him: The brunet did look about the right age for college, and they were in a town were a large portion of the inhabitants were college students. Still, Lovino found himself dazed at the turn their conversation had suddenly taken.

Antonio's eyes lingered on him for a while longer until he, with what almost seemed like reluctance to Lovino, turned his attention back to the cash register. He pressed a couple more buttons on it, and Lovino finally paid for his bag of tomatoes. The Italian's hands were sweaty as he stuffed his change back into his wallet, then reached out to grab the full paper bag from the counter. He was carefully packing his recent purchase inside his backpack when the young shop assistant spoke again.

"What's your name?" The brunet slightly inclined his head as he spoke, his tone softer than before, almost bearing a hint of hesitation. The smile dancing on his lips was smaller as well, yet it wasn't missing any of its earlier warmth.

"Lovino. Lovino Vargas."

Antonio's posture seemed to relax at the reply, as if he hadn't been sure if the Italian would actually bother answering him. Lovino felt a little surprised himself: His name had left his lips without a moment's hesitation, as if he had been waiting for the particular question all along. He quickly brushed off the idea, embarrassed at his own train of thought.

"I'm Antonio. Antonio Fernández Carriedo." The brunet said and flashed Lovino one of his dazzling smiles. The vibrant look in his emerald eyes almost sent shivers down Lovino's spine, keen, yet so incredibly warm at the same time.

"Say, Lovino, would you mind if I showed you around the town tomorrow?" Antonio placed his palms on the counter before him, reminding Lovino of his own habit of grasping the edge of the kitchen table at home whenever he was anxious. The way Antonio did it was different, though: He was putting barely any weight on the desk, his palms only resting on it lightly.

"Sure. I wouldn't mind." Again the words escaped Lovino's lips before he even had time to properly think about what he was saying. He was getting more and more confused about the direction their conversation had suddenly taken. Or had it been heading there from the very beginning? But if that was the case, then what was it about Lovino that had so quickly caught the brunet's attention? And even more importantly, what was it that had made Lovino tell him his name and accept his offer to show him around?

 _"¡Genial!"_ Antonio beamed at Lovino, who once again felt the tips of his ears grow unpleasantly hot. The burning got even worse when he realized he didn't feel the slightest bit of regret for going along with Antonio's suggestion. It was actually quite the opposite: He felt an immediate surge of bubbly excitement when he thought of seeing the young shop assistant again.

Lovino's disoriented thoughts were interrupted by the sudden ring of the bell, and a second after a young woman stepped through the door. She was dressed in a long, dark blue rain jacket, and droplets of water fell on the doormat as she entered the small store. It had apparently started raining at some point during Lovino's visit to the shop, but he had been too caught up in his chat with Antonio to pay attention to the weather outside.

"Hello!" Antonio readily greeted the arrival, a friendly smile on his face. "Terrible weather outside, isn't it?" He casually motioned at the door with one hand, the other still resting on the counter before him.

The woman agreed with him on that, then swiftly proceeded to the shelves of fresh vegetables at the back of the shop. Antonio's eyes followed her for a while. Then he quickly turned his attention back to Lovino, who was still standing in his spot before the counter. The Italian suddenly felt almost reluctant to leave the small store and head out to the cold rain. He sneaked a glance at Antonio's warm smile and sparkling eyes, wondering for a second if it was the young shop assistant who somehow made the whole room feel so warm and cozy.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Lovino blinked as his thoughts were again interrupted, this time by Antonio himself. The brunet leaned forward over the counter, his voice quieter than before as he faced the Italian. Behind his brown curls, his brows were slightly raised in a questioning look. Lovino quickly noted the shortened distance between himself and the shop assistant, instantly feeling a strange tingling in his stomach. He quickly dropped his gaze from the brunet's tan face, fixing his eyes at the wooden surface of the desk instead.

**_"_ ** _Sì."_

Before Lovino finally had to leave the warm and well-lit vegetable shop and return to the chilly rain outside, the two quickly agreed on their meeting point for the next day. It was a small café just across the town square, a place Lovino had walked past a several times, but never actually visited. He recalled that each time he had glanced at its large windows, the café had been relatively full of people, though not to the point of being too badly crowded. It had looked like a rather cozy and pleasant place, mainly visited by pairs and groups of college students.

As Lovino then pushed open the door and stepped outside to the cobblestone street after waving goodbye to Antonio, he was instantly hit by a gust of chilly wind. Drops of equally cold rain water speckled his face, making him blink his eyes multiple times. The murky grey clouds hung low in the afternoon sky, blocking nearly all of the sun light that would've normally lasted for a couple more hours. Lovino shivered as the chill seeped through his thin layer of clothes, tugging at his hood to keep it from getting blown off by the gusts of persistent wind.

Standing on the wet cobblestones in front of the shop door, the Italian blinked once more, almost as if to bring himself back from a strangely vivid dream. Then he headed down the street the same way he had earlier come, one hand holding his hood over his head, the other stuffed deep inside one of his jacket pockets. A fresh picture of Antonio's smiling face lingered in his mind the whole way back to the campus area and finally his own flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be posted in a week or two! Please comment and tell me your thoughts on the story so far! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Antonio leaned back in his kitchen chair, carefully stretching his sore arms behind his head. It was barely 9AM, and he had already finished his morning workout at the gym, taken a quick shower and made himself a simple breakfast. He hadn't bothered to put on any proper clothes yet, only wearing a pair of loose shorts and a white tank top with a towel thrown over his shoulders. Occasional drops of water still dripped from his newly washed hair, speckling the kitchen table before him as he turned his attention back to his breakfast: fried eggs with toast and a mug of coffee.

His flatmate Francis, who was a sophomore like him, was yet to come out from his room, undoubtedly still fast asleep. The Frenchman tended to sleep until noon whenever he got the chance, and it was quite often that he brought a nightly guest into his room. Last evening, however, when Antonio had returned from his part-time job at the vegetable shop, he had been surprised to find his flatmate alone in his room, apparently doing school work.

The Spaniard slowly picked up a piece of toast from his plate, breathing in the delicious smell of toasted bread and egg fried in olive oil before proceeding to take a bite. This simple and easy-to-make breakfast had been his favorite back when he had still lived with his family in a small village in the Spanish countryside. His mother had often cooked it for him before he headed out to play soccer with the other kids in the neighborhood, and later on in the morning before his trip to Barcelona, which had ultimately ended up opening him the doors to the future he'd always dreamt of.

Antonio chewed slowly, leaning back in his kitchen chair and crossing his ankles under the table. Ever since the previous afternoon, his mind had constantly seemed to wander off from the tasks at hand, and his normally sharp concentration had kept slipping like a wet piece of soap escaping his fingers. He was lucky for the fact that his team captain, Alfred, wasn't the most observant person outside the soccer field, and nobody had caught him spacing out between sets during morning practice at the gym.

 _Lovino Vargas._ That was the name of the boy he hadn't been able to get off his mind ever since he'd met him the day before during his shift at the vegetable shop. He had had a small frame, a warm olive complexion, and his hair had been a dark shade of auburn, slightly ruffled as he'd just taken off his hood, with one particularly defiant curl protruding from the side of his head. His large, amber eyes had held a temperamental look, and he'd never seemed to meet Antonio's eyes for more than a second at a time before quickly finding something else to focus on.

As the Spaniard recalled a vivid picture of Lovino Vargas in his mind, he felt a growing sense of anticipation at the thought of actually being able to see the boy again that very evening. He still wasn't quite sure what it was about him that had managed to capture his attention like that, but somehow every little detail he'd noticed about the auburn-haired boy had made his eyes linger on him for a while longer.

As Antonio was just about to take another bite of his piece of toast, he was suddenly brought back from his thoughts by the sound of a door opening and sluggish steps moving towards the kitchen. He craned his neck, watching as his flatmate approached the table while stifling a yawn and rubbing his eyes with one of his pajama sleeves. The usually so elegant and polished Frenchman was like a totally different person in the morning. Antonio had found this hilarious during their freshman year, when he'd first seen his flatmate like that. Even though over a year had passed since then, the sight still tented to bring an amused smile to his lips.

"Morning, Francis! You're up early today."

" _Bon matin, mon ami_ …" Francis yawned again, giving the Spaniard a sleepy glance from across the room before proceeding to open the fridge and examine its contents. He grumbled something under his breath, and Antonio understood enough French to know that he wasn't pleased with what he saw.

"What?" Antonio asked, watching the Frenchman with slight amusement. "Did you forget to buy that marmalade of yours again? You can have a tomato with your baguette, if you like."

"Tomato?" The blond turned to look at him in horror. "For breakfast? _Oh non_!"

The Spaniard rolled his eyes at his flatmate's reaction, carefully picking up his coffee mug and blowing into the still hot beverage. The clock on the wall across the room told him he only had fifteen minutes until he would have to leave for work. He brought his mug to his lips and took a careful sip, thinking about the busy day he had ahead of him. His thoughts mostly centered around six o'clock in the evening, though, as that was when he would finally get to meet Lovino Vargas again.

**xxx**

Lovino's eyes darted to the door each time he heard the faint ring of the bell, barely discernible amid the chattering that filled the small café. When he then saw that the person stepping in was someone else than Antonio, he felt an indisputable surge of disappointment in his stomach, which frustrated him to a great extent. How could he be so anxious to see someone he'd only met the day before for the first time? Dammit, it wasn't like he was some lonely puppy waiting for his owner to return home.

Trying to find something to busy himself with, the Italian brought his cup of coffee to his lips, taking a tentative sip of the hot latte, brows furrowed in a deep scowl. The coffee wasn't that bad, but it was still too hot for him to drink without burning his tongue. He settled for checking his phone for what was probably the tenth time in five minutes, noting that it was exactly 6PM, the time Antonio had promised to meet him there.

_He'd better show up soon…_

Or what if he wouldn't even come? What if he'd already forgotten the whole thing about showing Lovino around? As the Italian considered it, a heavy coldness started to settle in his stomach. What if the young shop assistant had thrown in the offer just to mess with him, and hadn't been serious about it in the first place? This thought had crossed his mind more than once after he'd returned to his flat the previous afternoon, soaked from the heavy rain and perplexed by the turn his perfectly ordinary shopping trip had ended up taking.

The Italian's eyes yet again drifted to the door across the room, a new kind of nervousness filling both his mind and his body. He hated it when people tried to mess with him and make him look like a fool, and he generally found it very difficult to trust others, especially people he didn't know well – or, in this case, at all. And yet he had still come there with barely any hesitation, despite of having no guarantee that the brunet would actually show up. His frown deepened as he kept his eyes fixed at the door, hands nervously twiddling with his phone.

Suddenly, without any warning, the bell rang and the door swung open. Lovino's eyes widened, his heart doing a small jump in his chest. It was Antonio who stepped through the door this time, running a hand through his brown curls while he quickly scanned the small room. His face lit up the moment he laid his eyes on Lovino, who sat frozen in his chair across the room, eyes still wide from surprise. There was only one thought in the Italian's dazed mind: Antonio had really come to meet him as he'd promised.

"Hey!" Antonio made his way to Lovino's table, a bright smile playing on his lips and eyes sparkling as he studied the Italian in front of him. "Sorry I made you wait, I tried to come as quick as I could." The brunet smiled apologetically, and Lovino noted that he was slightly out of breath.

" _Ciao_ ", Lovino greeted him, finally snapping out of his momentary daze. He fixed his gaze at the still nearly full cup of coffee before him, not trusting himself to meet the brunet's eyes. "And it's not like I waited long", he added. That wasn't entirely true as he'd come there quite early, but the brunet himself hadn't exceeded the agreed time by even five minutes. Lovino instantly felt a little embarrassed at himself for getting so nervous and jumping into conclusions so soon, when Antonio had barely even been late yet.

"Oh, that's good, then!"

Lovino could hear the smile in his voice, and couldn't stop himself from sneaking a glance at the young man standing next to his table. The harsh wind outside had ruffled his wavy locks, as well as made his tan cheeks and nose catch a light tint of pink, which gave his skin a warm glow under the yellow ceiling lights of the small café. His eyes were just as vibrant as Lovino had remembered from the day before, their color a rich emerald green. The Italian met them for a second, then quickly turned his eyes back to his cup of coffee, feeling a familiar burn in the tips of his ears.

"Uh, are you going to get some coffee or something?" Lovino spoke with a slight stutter, the tips of his ears rapidly growing hotter.

"Oh, right!" The brunet chuckled, finally taking his brilliant eyes off the Italian, who immediately felt relieved.

Lovino took a deep breath, slowly running his fingers through his hair. This feeling… It was the same jittery feeling from last afternoon, the feeling Antonio's presence instantly evoked him. The inability to meet his eyes without feeling his heart start racing and the tips of his ears burn, the inexplicable sense of excitement he'd felt in the vegetable shop at the thought of being able to see him again, and finally coming there to that café with barely any hesitation, regardless of having no guarantee that the brunet would actually show up.

Lovino rested his elbow on the table before him, eyes fixed down at the smooth, wooden surface. He furrowed his brows, lightly tugging at the locks of hair between his fingers. What was going on with him? No person had ever before had the kind of power over him as Antonio now seemed to have. Sure, there had been plenty of those who tried to get to him with sneers and nasty remarks, but this was something else entirely. Antonio had only been nice to him, and yet it was making him more flustered than ever.

The Italian lifted up his gaze, watching the brunet's back as he gave the waitress behind the counter a cheerful thanks, picked up his order and turned to head back to Lovino's table at the back of the room. He carefully placed down his steaming cup of coffee before taking off his coat and scarf and placing then on the chair back. Then he finally took the seat opposite from Lovino, turning to face him with a warm smile playing on his lips.

Lovino's skin tingled under his look, which, regardless of its warmth, seemed to examine him with keen curiosity. He couldn't recall anyone ever giving him that sort of a look before, a look that was neither indifferent nor annoyed, nor was it even comparable to one of those concerned or affectionate looks his brother would give him. The Italian's efforts to comprehend the meaning of that particular look proved futile, as the more he thought about it, the more confused he became.

"So, Lovino, how has your first year in college started off?" The brunet finally spoke, forcing the Italian to concentrate his thoughts back on the present, instead of the endless questions and doubts that tended to occupy his mind whenever he got a moment to spare.

"Uh, fine", Lovino uttered, stealing a quick glance at the boy sitting across the table before hastily fixing his eyes back on his own cup of coffee, which still remained nearly full on the spotlessly white saucer before him. He immediately felt embarrassed for the bluntness of his reply, which again greatly irritated him. Why should it even matter? When had he ever cared about sounding disinterested or impolite when he talked to people?

Antonio let out a light chuckle, causing Lovino to lift his gaze from the table. "That was a boring question, wasn't it?" He gave the Italian an apologetic grin over his steaming cup of coffee, eyes sparkling as warmly as ever, a healthy tinge of color still visible on his cheeks. "I guess I should ask you something else", the brunet said, slightly inclining his head in a thoughtful manner, "hmm, did you try the tomatoes you bought yesterday?"

"Huh?" The Italian raised one of his eyebrows, eyes still fixed on the boy in front of him. The brunet returned his look, an expectant grin lighting up his tan face. The randomness of his question almost reminded Lovino of his brother, Feliciano, who's thoughts mainly seemed to center around food. Somehow the thought managed to ease his nervousness, if only just a little. "Si." He reached for his cup of coffee, carefully lifting it from the saucer. "They were good."

The brunet beamed at him as he lifted the cup to his lips and took a small sip, careful not to spill the beverage. It was still warm, but not so hot that it would have burnt his tongue.

"I told you, didn't I?" the other boy said proudly, flashing him a cheerful smile before proceeding to point at the cup of coffee that he was still holding. "What did you order?"

"A latte".

"Oh, me too! Wait… Are you perhaps Italian?" The brunet's look became curious as he carefully examined Lovino's face, as if looking for clues about his origin.

Lovino raised one of his eyebrows at the boy in front of him, a baffled smile suddenly tugging at his lips. If he hadn't been looking at the athletic frame of a tall boy with a perfect tan and brilliant green eyes, he would have thought he was talking to his own silly little brother. "Really? Just because I'm drinking a latte, I have to be Italian?"

The brunet laughed, casually brushing a few strands of hair off his forehead, then quickly fixing his sparkling eyes back on Lovino. The Italian forced himself to meet his look, keeping his eyebrows slightly raised even though he could feel a familiar burn in the tips of his ears. If Antonio's smile was dazzling, his laugh was on another level entirely. It somehow managed to fill the Italian's chest with a strange sense of warmth, making his skin tingle and his cheeks flush no matter how much he tried to get his head together.

"It's not just the latte", the brunet said with a small chuckle, slightly inclining his head as he kept studying the Italian in front of him, a curious smile playing on his lips. "It's also your accent. And", he added, raising his right index finger knowingly, "you look quite Italian, too."

Lovino rolled his eyes, resisting the smile that was still tugging at his lips. "Well, I guess you got it right. I am Italian."

"I knew it!" The brunet's smile widened into a cheerful grin as he beamed at the boy in front of him.

Lovino fixed his eyes at his cup of coffee again, picking it up in his hands but bringing it only halfway up, resting his elbows on the wooden table. "What about you? I mean, where do you come from?" He hadn't actually planned it, but somehow the question had escaped his lips anyway. _I want to know more about this boy._ That thought had somehow stuck to his mind like one of those colorful sticky notes that his brother had once stolen from him and stuck all around their room when they had been younger.

"Spain", the brunet said while placing his own forearms on the table, his look dropping only for a second before quickly returning to Lovino again. The Italian could have sworn he saw a wistful glint in those emerald eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "I came here to play soccer." The cheerfulness was instantly back to his tone, and a bright grin illuminated his features as he faced Lovino.

"Soccer?" Lovino's eyes skimmed over the Spaniard's wide shoulders and steady form, and he couldn't help but to picture him on a soccer field, wearing a snug jersey with his hair falling on his forehead and sweat running down his face. He quickly forced the image off his mind, returning his eyes to his coffee and raising the cup all the way to his lips, drinking the remainder of the beverage in one gulp.

"Yeah, I play for the school's team. It was a dream come true to get in here." The sincerity he spoke the words with, along with the sparkle that lit up his vibrant eyes suddenly caused Lovino's stomach to wring painfully. He had to drop his look again, unsure as to what made him feel like that. Was it simply the passion with which Antonio spoke with, and the lack of such enthusiasm in Lovino's own life? Or was there something else as well? He was pretty sure there was, but he was interrupted by the Spaniard before he had time to figure it out.

"How about you?" The brunet's warm, gentle look seemed to pierce right through him, cutting into pieces everything he had just been thinking about. "What are you interested in?" His tone was genuinely curious as he smiled at the Italian, which only caused the knot in his stomach to tighten.

"Nothing special, really." Lovino's mouth felt dry regardless of the cup of coffee he had finished just a moment ago. He kept his eyes down, unable to face the boy in front of him. He suddenly felt extremely insecure, having nothing interesting he could tell the other boy about himself. How could it be that he suddenly felt such a strong urge to appear interesting to someone? The whole idea still puzzled him, making him feel disgusted at himself.

"Huh? Come on", the Spaniard chuckled, "it can't be that embarrassing, now can it?"

Lovino raised his look enough to catch a glimpse of the brunet's face, which held a cheerful, slightly amused smile, completely unaffected by the flatness of the Italian's response. _That has to be it. It's that face that he always makes. That's what's making me act like some sentimental idiot._ "Uh, music, I guess", Lovino said with a slight frown. "And reading."

"Really? Do you play some instrument?"

The genuine curiousness in the Spaniard's voice caused the Italian to blink his eyes a couple of times before he could finally fix them back at the boy in front of him. He couldn't remember anyone ever sounding as interested in him or his interests as this Spanish boy he barely knew, and whom he had met no earlier than the day before. It didn't seem to make any sense, but somehow it managed to ease the knot in Lovino's stomach, filling him with a sense of indisputable warmth.

He then told the Spaniard about his guitar, which he had had to leave at home when moving into his campus flat. That shifted their conversation to their current accommodation, and Lovino learned about Antonio's French flatmate and some of his crazy habits, which managed to bring an amused smile to his face. At some point, he came to realize that he felt less and less tense as time passed and the Spaniard showed no signs of being bored or tired of his company. Eventually, the Italian was so caught up in their conversation that any insecurities he'd harbored in his mind earlier were pushed into a far corner at the back of his mind, where they faded into barely discernible background noise.


	4. Chapter 4

" _Fratello!_ " Feliciano's voice complained from Lovino's headphones as he leaned back in his office chair, fixing his eyes at the ceiling above him in a rather obvious attempt to ignore his brother, whose pouting face was presently filling most of his laptop screen. "You didn't answer my call yesterday!"

Letting out an emphatic sigh, Lovino ran a hand through his messy auburn locks while finally casting an annoyed look at his screen. His younger brother had insisted on Skype-calling him every Saturday now that he wasn't living at home anymore, and it had quickly become a weekly test of patience for Lovino. The day before, however, he had come home quite late, completely oblivious to the call he had missed.

"So you're saying I'm not allowed to leave my flat on a Saturday evening?" He demanded in a sarcastic tone, raising an eyebrow at the video displayed on his screen.

A small frown appeared on the younger boy's face in response to his words, as if he had totally left out the possibility of his brother spending time somewhere else than in his flat.

Lovino rolled his eyes, slightly irritated by his brother's reaction. Even though it was true that he rarely went out other than for classes and grocery shopping, he didn't exactly appreciate getting reminded of how absurd the idea of him having a social life really was.

"I was hanging out with someone", he blurted, the words coming out a little more defensive than he'd meant.

"Ooh!" Feliciano's eyes immediately widened, excitement quickly replacing his earlier frown. "Was it a girl?" He demanded his brother eagerly, his face getting larger and blurrier, from which Lovino concluded he was leaning in closer to the webcam.

"No."

"A cute guy?" The younger boy suggested with barely any pause, brows slightly raised and an expectant look on his pale face.

The lively sparkle in his brother's amber eyes suddenly reminded Lovino of Antonio, which caused him to look away in embarrassment.

Cute? Did he find Antonio cute?

The Spaniard's smiling face quickly surfaced in Lovino's mind, causing his cheeks and ears to heat up as an involuntary answer to the question he had been posed. He gritted his teeth, covering a portion of his flushed face with his hand while silently cursing his overly curious little brother.

"It's a cute guy, isn't it?"

Lovino grimaced as his brother's excited voice blared from his headphones, both because of the loud noise and the situation that was getting more and more uncomfortable for him. He had _not_ planned to have this kind of a conversation with his brother, but somehow he had ended up finding himself completely cornered. It was so much like Feliciano to blurt out such embarrassing things, which was exactly what made him so troublesome to Lovino. Still, the fact that he was acting like some flustered twelve-year-old in front of his stupid _younger_ brother was the most infuriating part of the situation.

"Shut up, you bastard…" He grumbled while heavily placing his elbow on his desk, his heated face still buried in his hand.

Feliciano just hummed happily, and even without looking, Lovino could tell he was beaming at him through the screen. "So, what's his name? What is he like?" The younger boy inquired excitedly before suddenly drawing in a dramatic breath. "Oh! What did you do with him?" he exclaimed, his voice blaring from Lovino's headphones, loud enough to make him wince.

"Dammit, Feli! Don't shout!" Lovino growled through gritted teeth, glaring at his screen while holding a hand to his headphones. What the hell had his seemingly innocent little brother just tried to imply, anyway? This time Lovino managed to quickly shake the thought off his mind, determined not to let his brother embarrass him any further.

"Sorry, _fratello_." Feliciano drooped his head repentantly while Lovino took in a deep breath to calm himself down. Another infuriating thing about Feliciano was his ability to look so sincerely regretful that it was nearly impossible to stay mad at him for long. Not bothering to provoke himself any further, Lovino simply propped on his elbow again, resting his chin on his hand while thoughtfully furrowing his brows.

"We just had coffee together. In a café. His name is Antonio." Lovino spoke, his tone much calmer than still a moment ago. He wasn't exactly sure why he was so willingly answering the questions his brother had posed him, but suddenly he felt like he didn't mind it all that much. He just felt a familiar bubbly feeling in his chest at the thought of Antonio, a feeling that had the power to drive off most of his frustration and grumpiness, instead replacing them with a tingling sense of warmth.

Feliciano's look rose up again in response to his brother's words, the earlier excitement instantly back on his face. "Antonio? That's a nice name…" The younger boy pondered while resting his chin on his folded arms with a happy smile on his face.

Lovino settled with rolling his eyes, even though he did silently agree with his brother's notion. And it was not only his name that Lovino found nice, but everything else about the Spaniard as well. Every single thing he'd registered about the brunet had strengthened the notion that he was the nicest, gentlest, most perfect person the Italian had ever met. And that notion was exactly what was tightening the knot in Lovino's stomach, the knot that reminded him of his own flaws, the knot that told him just how absurd it really was that someone like Antonio would want to spend time with him and actually enjoy his company.

"So, _fratello_ , when are you seeing him again?"

The Italian blinked, his eyes quickly skimming over his brother's expectant face before finally focusing on the bottom right corner of his screen. 11:28 AM. That meant he had exactly 32 minutes before Antonio would show up at his door to pick him up. Before that, he would still have to take a shower, get dressed and grab something to eat, which again meant that he couldn't afford to waste much more time chatting with his brother.

Feliciano's face scrunched up into a pout as his brother told him he would have to end the call, but when he learned that Lovino was meeting Antonio in barely half an hour, the discontent expression instantly disappeared. He quickly insisted on hearing from Lovino again later that day, anxious to learn more about Antonio and the kind of relationship he had with Lovino. He also reminded his brother about how he would have to make up for the call he had missed the day before, which caused Lovino to let out an exasperated sight, accompanied by a roll of his eyes. He had to admit that even his docile brother could be determined when he wanted to.

**xxx**

Antonio halted his steps as he reached the correct door, carefully scanning the nameplate mounted on the wall next to it. Under the number 715 read the name _Vargas_ in plain capital letters, similar to the ones that formed the Spaniard's own last name next to his flat door three stories below. The door itself was completely identical to all the other doors along the hallway, the nameplate being the only thing distinguishing it from the rest. Yet the Spaniard remained examining it for a couple of seconds longer, as if it were the most interesting piece of wood he'd ever seen.

Lovino Vargas was currently somewhere behind that door. That knowledge alone caused a familiar tingling sensation spread from the Spaniard's stomach all the way to the tips of his fingers. It was only the last minutes before the start of a match that Antonio knew this feeling from, the feeling of anticipation and excitement, as well as the knowledge that he was dealing with something of great importance, something he didn't want to blunder.

To think there would be a day when someone could evoke that kind of feelings within him, feelings that he had only ever connected to soccer before. Truth to be told, he had never expected that to happen, never even given it all that much thought, as he now realized. And even if he'd happened to brush the topic a couple of times while lying awake in his bed at night, thinking about all sorts of things that life could possibly throw at him, it had always been somewhere far ahead in the future.

But suddenly it didn't seem to be far ahead in the future anymore; in fact, it was just in front of him. Two days ago, when he'd first met the Italian on that rainy evening during his shift at the vegetable shop, he had already begun to feel it. At least on some unconscious level, he had felt the incoming change, the new turn his life was about to take, like one might smell the scent of incoming rain in the air. However, it was no longer just a faint scent: it had quickly become something that seemed to fill all his senses, enthralling his mind like a strangely vivid dream.

Finally, the Spaniard took a single step forward, closing in the distance between himself and the plain, wooden door. He raised his hand, giving the cool, smooth surface a light yet firm knock. It took quite long for the door to be opened, so long that the Spaniard started wondering if the Italian had even heard him. He had just raised his hand in an uncertain attempt to knock again when he finally heard the sound of the security chain being opened. He instantly lowered his hand, taking a small step back as the door opened inwards.

Lovino was standing in the doorway before him, wearing a red t-shirt speckled with drops of water around the shoulders. His wet auburn locks fell on his face while that one peculiar curl was still sticking out from the left side of his head. The Spaniard could only meet his eyes for a few fleeting seconds before he averted his gaze, brows slightly furrowed in that familiar way of his, like he didn't quite know what kind of an expression to wear on his face and decided to settle with a scowl.

Just seeing the Italian made Antonio's chest swell with happiness in a way he had never even thought to be possible. He couldn't help but to notice the tiniest details in the other boy's appearance, like the way his dark eyelashes curved beautifully as his gaze flickered down, or the way his wet hair seemed to glimmer under the bright ceiling lights. He admired his fine, delicate features, the slight curve and pointy tip of his nose, and the light yet warm tone of his skin. It took him a great effort to tear his eyes off the Italian, but he didn't want to make him uncomfortable by staring at him for an awkwardly long time.

"Hey, Lovino", he finally said, unable to control the happy smile that never seemed to leave his lips whenever he was around the Italian.

" _Ciao_ ", the shorter boy mumbled, again giving the Spaniard a quick glance before fixing his eyes at the floor before his feet. The Spaniard noted that his socks were mismatched, one of them being white and one grey.

It didn't take long for the two of them to get to the lobby, which was empty apart from a girl whom Antonio recognized from his sociology class. She had a long, brown hair and was standing next to the elevators, eyes fixed on her phone screen. As they passed by, she lifted her head and flashed them a friendly smile, to which Antonio replied with a cheerful grin and an energetic wave of his hand. A bright, midday sun shone in from the large windows, making it almost hard to believe that just yesterday it had been windy and rainy.

"It's almost like back in Spain", he noted, shielding his eyes with a hand as they passed through the doors to the front yard bathing in sunshine. Next to him, the Spaniard could hear Lovino utter a silent groan as he squinted with his eyes almost closed.

"Let's try to find a place with some shade in the park, shall we?" Antonio suggested with a small chuckle as the Italian beside him struggled trying to get used to the sudden brightness.

As the two of them made their way towards the park area located behind the campus buildings, Antonio couldn't stop himself from making random remarks about perfectly normal things, like a pigeon picking at the remnants of a hot dog in the side of the path, or a cloud that he thought resembled a unicorn. Lovino simply shook his head with a slightly incredulous expression, as if he couldn't quite understand what was so interesting about those observations.

When they eventually found a wooden bench situated in the shadow of a large oak tree, the sun had mostly dried Lovino's hair and Antonio had taken off his jacket and slung it over one of his shoulders. People were occasionally passing by, casually chatting with each other as they headed towards the gates that lead out from the campus area, probably on their way to do some shopping or just continue their chat over a cup of coffee - or perhaps ice tea.

Antonio leaned back as he sat on the bench, closing his eyes shortly as he breathed in the warm yet fresh air. It had been a while since he'd last felt so refreshed, and he knew that the reason behind it was hardly the beautiful September day, but the auburn-haired boy he was currently sharing the bench with. Thanks to the shadow created by the oak tree, the Italian was no longer squinting, though his bangs were almost long enough to hide his large, amber eyes.

"Were you in a hurry in the morning?" Antonio asked, remembering the Italian's mismatched socks and wet hair. "I'm more of a morning person myself, but I guess people usually want to sleep in when they have the chance..." He thought of Francis, who had still been in his room when he had left, probably sound asleep. He turned to give the Italian an apologetic smile, slightly surprised to find the boy's eyes fixed on him.

Lovino instantly turned his look back to the road before them, where a loudly chattering group of girls was just passing by. Under his bangs, Antonio could see his brows furrowing slightly. "It's fine, I was just talking on Skype." His scowl deepened at the words, and the Spaniard was certain he could distinguish a light shade of pink on his cheeks.

_What is he so embarrassed about? Could it be possible…?_

The Spaniard sneaked a quick glance at the Italian, now certain that both his cheeks and ears looked redder than usual. He suddenly felt stupid for not coming to think of it before: Surely he wasn't the first person ever to notice how cute the Italian was. Lovino may have been a little reserved, but no one with decent eyesight could have claimed him to be unattractive. And yet Antonio had never actually considered the possibility of him already dating someone... Maybe he was more inexperienced at these things than he'd originally thought after all…

He returned his eyes to Lovino, whose gaze he again found to be fixed at him. One of his eyebrows was slightly raised, partly disappearing under his bangs, and his head was cocked to the side in a questioning manner.

The Spaniard cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a strange sense of nervousness. "Uh, who were you talking with?" He aimed for a casual tone, but could still hear the words come out with a slight strain.

"Feliciano. He can be such a pain, I swear…" Lovino muttered from next to him, a tinge of pink still visible on his cheeks.

Antonio's heart did a little jump in his chest at the Italian's words, as he recognized the name from the previous day when Lovino had complained about his 'pain-in-the-ass little brother'. He couldn't stop a happy grin from spreading on his face, and it struck him how immensely relieved he felt after hearing Lovino's reply.

"What did you two talk about?" This time there was no strain in his voice, although he wondered if he would be stuck with a goofy grin on his face for the rest of the day.

As a response to his words, the Italian quickly evaded his gaze, the blush on his cheeks turning into a darker shade of pink. "Nothing you should know about", he muttered, face scrunched up into a deep scowl.

Antonio raised his brows, slightly surprised by the blunt answer, but proceeded to shift his look to the path in front of them to avoid making the Italian more uncomfortable. He couldn't help but to be curious about what was making the boy so embarrassed, but he decided not to pressure him any further. "Alright, then", he simply said with a shrug.

Lovino gave him a suspicious glance, as if he found it hard to believe that the Spaniard had let him off so easily.

"It must be nice having a younger brother, though", Antonio said after a few seconds of silence, watching as some three guys made their way past the bench, engaged in an intense debate of some sort, each with a heavy-looking bag or backpack slung over one shoulder. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lovino casting him an incredulous look.

"What?" He asked, letting out a light chuckle at the Italian's expression.

Lovino just shook his head in a disbelieving manner, taking a couple of seconds before finally opening his mouth. "You should count yourself lucky for not having any siblings", he said, raising an eyebrow at the Spaniard sitting next to him.

"That's what I've always heard from people who have siblings", Antonio contemplated with a small smile. "I still used to envy them, though, at least when I was younger."

He thought back to the afternoons he'd spent playing soccer with a group of other kids on a small field in his neighborhood. It hadn't been a proper soccer field, just a square of cracked tarmac with two rocks compensating for actual goals on both ends. His best friend had often used to play with him until the sunset with his younger brother, and he remembered watching the two as they started to head home, usually bickering and exchanging shoulder bumps. He had often thought about how nice it would've been if he could've had a brother or a sister to walk home with, although he had never voiced his thoughts to any of his friends.

"Believe me when I say that you're not missing out on anything." The Italian grumbled from next to him, bringing the Spaniard back from his thoughts.

Antonio gave the boy an inquiring look, but found his eyes closely fixed at the ground before his feet. As the Spaniard studied the deep frown on the Italian's face, he suddenly got the feeling that there might actually be a more complicated reason behind his grumpiness than he'd originally thought. He wondered briefly what it could be that was making the Italian look so troubled, like he was struggling with some sort of an inner conflict he didn't know how to resolve. For now, the Spaniard was clueless about the reasons behind that conflict, but, he thought while turning his eyes back to the road before them, maybe one day the Italian would feel comfortable enough around him to open up about what was troubling him.

"Do you still feel like going on that tour I was supposed to give you yesterday?" Antonio said in a light tone, determined to lift up the Italian's mood.

A stray strand of auburn hair fell on Lovino's face as he lifted up his head, giving the Spaniard a wary glance, to which he responded with a small smile. He was fairly sure he saw a tint of pink appear on the other boy's cheeks before he gave him a short nod and proceeded to stand up.

The two of them then set out for a tour around the busy center of the small town, threading past groups of fellow college students while Antonio pointed out his favorite shops to Lovino. As the Spaniard kept talking about this and that he was happy to note that the Italian seemed grow more comfortable, occasionally smiling or even letting out a small laugh when Antonio told him about a particularly funny incident that had taken place during his first year of college in the McDonald's restaurant they walked past.

Each time that shy smile appeared on the Italian's lips, Antonio's chest swelled with happiness, and he wondered how it was possible that something as simple as a smile could make him feel like that, make him feel like he'd just scored the decisive goal in the last minutes of a game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fratello - Brother
> 
> The next chapter will be up in about two weeks! Thank you to everyone who's read my story so far, do leave a review and tell me what you've thought about it!


	5. Chapter 5

Antonio leant against the kitchen table, placing the glass of punch he was holding on the wooden surface as he let his eyes wander around the room. It was early Friday night and he was in Alfred's flat, surrounded by most of his teammates and some of their friends, who were all chatting casually with each other and taking sips of punch or stronger drinks that they had brought in themselves. Nobody looked too drunk yet, but the Spaniard knew from experience that it wouldn't remain that way for long.

Attending Alfred's party hadn't been his original plan for the night, but somehow he'd ended up getting dragged there by said American, who seemed to view it as his responsibility to make sure that his team members didn't miss too many consecutive parties. Francis hadn't done much to help him either, as the mention of a party had made him put in his own effort to get the Spaniard out of his flat to ' _s'amuser_ for once'. Antonio cast a quick glance at the Frenchman's direction, unsurprised to see him already flirting with some girl whom the Spaniard didn't recognize.

"Hey! Buddy! What are you doing there by yourself?"

Antonio turned around to see Alfred striding towards him from the other side of the room with his trademark grin on his face. He noticed Arthur, Alfred's boyfriend, following the American with his eyes from where he was left standing, arms crossed over his chest. The Spaniard got the feeling he wasn't pleased with having his boyfriend suddenly march off like that, but the American seemed completely oblivious to that.

"Just chilling", Antonio said with a shrug as the blond threw an arm around his shoulders and began to walk him back to where he had left his boyfriend, barely giving the Spaniard enough time to grab his drink. They were soon joined by Matthew, Alfred's roommate, and a few other members of the soccer team, which Arthur didn't seem all that happy about. Something about his frown reminded the Spaniard of Lovino, and he immediately felt a sting of guilt for only seeing the Italian once in the past two weeks, and even then only briefly.

They had originally planned to hang out on Sunday the previous week, but Antonio had got last minute notice of a practice game in a different town, where it took three hours to get to by bus. The trip had ended up taking the whole day, while the following week had been as busy as usual, only allowing him to quickly stop by at Lovino's flat to give him some of the tomatoes the old shop keeper he worked for had given him without charge. Apart from that they had exchanged a couple of texts, but that had hardly been enough for the Spaniard, who missed the Italian like crazy by now.

Antonio took a sip of punch, trying to turn his attention back to the conversation around him. As usual, Alfred was talking loudly about the 'amazingly cool' goal he had scored in their afternoon practice, Matthew was listening quietly while leaning against the wall and carefully sipping his punch, and Arthur was glaring at his boyfriend, obviously growing tired of being neglected like that. The other guys around them cast amused looks between their team captain and the rather pissed-looking Englishman next to him, occasionally mumbling something to each other and sniggering.

A couple of hours later Antonio was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, chatting with Matthew over the combined noise of people laughing and chattering and the music blaring from Alfred's speakers. They were no longer accompanied by either Alfred or Arthur, as the American had finally started to give his boyfriend the attention he needed – whether it was because he had finally noticed the looks the Englishman had been giving him, or simply because of the several glasses of spiked punch he had emptied, Antonio didn't know. In any case, the two of them were looking rather busy on the couch, where the American had positioned himself half on top of his boyfriend while earnestly kissing him.

It wasn't the first time the Spaniard had seen his team captain make out with his boyfriend, but he didn't remember getting that kind of an empty feeling while watching them as he did now. He could feel his brows crease slightly as he turned his look away from the two boys, instead staring blankly into his refilled glass of punch. In his mind, he imagined what it would feel like to kiss Lovino, to press his body against the Italian's smaller figure and hold him close while running his fingers through his beautiful auburn locks. The ache in his chest became almost painful and he quickly tried to shake the image off his mind.

"Um, Antonio?" Matthew's careful voice interrupted his thoughts, making him look up from his glass and face the Canadian, who was looking at him with a slightly worried expression. Even though the Spaniard had mostly got used to it after knowing his teammates for more than a year now, it still amazed him how much the Canadian resembled Alfred – appearance wise, than was. Otherwise the two could've hardly been less similar, as the American was loud and loved being the center of everyone's attention, while Matthew was quiet and never tried to attract more attention to himself than necessary.

"Sorry", Antonio said with an apologetic smile before slowly running a hand through his hair. "I was just… thinking."

The Canadian continued to study him for a couple of seconds longer, then dropped his gaze with a thoughtful look on his face. "Is there something troubling you?" he asked in his usual polite tone after a short moment of silence.

Antonio reached to pick up his glass, absently frowning at the faintly pink liquid it was filled with. "I just feel like…" He started, finding it unusually difficult to properly phrase his thoughts. "I just feel like I haven't had enough time for… for someone I care about." The words came out clumsier than he'd intended, but judging from the sympathetic look on Matthew's face, he'd nevertheless managed to get his point across.

"You know… I don't think Alfred would mind if you left a little early", the Canadian said, shifting his look from Antonio to the couch, where the American certainly looked like he wouldn't be getting bored anytime soon. "You look like you could use some time to yourself." The blond had returned his eyes to the Spaniard, who wondered if the fatigue was really that visible on his face. He comforted himself with the thought that the Canadian had always seemed rather good at reading people: He always seemed to notice when one of their teammates looked troubled, and usually knew the right thing to say to make them feel better.

"Yeah, you might be right." He gave the blond a tired smile while carefully pushing away his glass. He hadn't been drinking much that night, and he thought it best to keep it that way: If he wanted to spend the next evening with Lovino, he would have to make use of his time now to avoid having his school work pile up. "See you tomorrow in practice."

The Canadian smiled and wished him good night as he stood up and made it to the door. Nobody tried to stop him on his way, as everyone seemed to be having too much fun to even notice him leave. _They won't be having so much fun in tomorrow's morning practice, that's for sure_ , he thought to himself as he opened the door and entered the relatively quiet hallway, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened his chat with Lovino.

_Hey Lovino, how've you been? I'm free tomorrow after 6PM, would you like to hang out?_

He spent a few seconds staring at the short message he'd typed, then pressed 'send' and turned off his screen while setting off down the corridor. Now he'd just have to do some research for the project he was working on, and tomorrow he would possibly be able to see Lovino. Just the thought of seeing the Italian gave him a spurt of new energy, and he felt positive that he would be able to finish the bit of research in less than two and a half hours and make it to bed before 1 AM.

**xxx**

Lovino lay on his bed in full clothing, idly going through a stack of William Blake's poems for his literature course. He had always liked literature, especially the way a piece of poetry could conceal different meanings, which the reader then had to interpret. Today, however, he found it incredibly difficult to properly put his mind to it: He found himself reading the same two lines over and over again, unable to actually process their meaning.

If he was being completely honest with himself, Lovino found it downright frightening how big an impact meeting Antonio had ended up having on his life. It was like everything that didn't involve the Spaniard had blended into a grey blur in his mind, leaving only a single weekend with all its vibrant colors, more like a dream than something belonging to the dull, grey reality. The scariest part to Lovino was that somewhere deep down, he had known almost from the very beginning that it would eventually come down to that. He had known it, and yet he hadn't even tried to stop it from happening.

Why? Why had he simply followed through, even though he had known that all it would do in the end was hurt him? And what would he do then? What would he do when Antonio finally grew tired of him? There was no doubt that was going to happen sooner or later – in fact, it might very well have already happened, as it had been almost two weeks since they last properly hung out – and yet Lovino had still let himself grow insufferably attached to the Spaniard. This way or another, he would end up getting hurt, and it was all his own fault for getting his hopes up for nothing.

Still, even though he knew it wouldn't lead him anywhere, he couldn't stop asking himself a certain set of questions: Why had the Spaniard asked for his name on that evening at the vegetable shop in the first place? Why had he smiled at him and looked at him with such a warm look in those stunning, emerald eyes of his? A small but persistent part of Lovino kept clinging onto those questions, clinging onto the tiniest possibility that against all odds, the Spaniard did sincerely care about him.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, the Italian pushed his stack of papers onto the nightstand next to his bed before roughly rolling onto his back. He brushed a stray strand of hair off his face and stared at the ceiling above him, thinking about his first night at the campus and how oblivious he'd then been about the mess he would soon get himself into.

It was the silent beeping of his phone that finally brought the Italian back from his thoughts. Before he even fully realized it, he had reached out for the phone on his nightstand and turned on the screen. He felt his heart do a little jump in his chest as he saw that he'd received a message from Antonio. An overwhelming sense of warmth filled his chest as he quickly read the short message, but at the same time he felt embarrassed for letting a single message evoke such a strong feeling within him.

After he quickly promised to meet the Spaniard at 6PM in front of his flat door, Lovino carefully placed his phone back on the nightstand and closed his eyes as he lay down on his bed. No matter how much uncertainty and doubt he still harbored in his mind, the comforting warmth in his chest just didn't seem to go away. It was getting harder and harder to control the spark of hope in his heart, the small spark that threatened to turn into a blazing fire which, he was sure, would sooner or later end up destroying him.

The next evening the weather was fairly warm, with only a gentle breeze rustling the trees as Lovino and Antonio walked through the campus area towards the gates. They were walking slowly, exchanging a few words from time to time but otherwise remaining in a comfortable silence. It had just struck Lovino that he indeed _did_ feel comfortable around Antonio, regardless of spending the last two weeks trying to solve the conflict between his obvious feelings towards the Spaniard and the insecurities and fears the whole situation evoked in him.

It was like the Spaniard's mere presence filled him with that familiar sense of warmth, making him feel slightly lightheaded. If he'd had the power to stop the time, he thought, he wouldn't have minded spending the rest of his life walking alongside Antonio while listening to his warm, gentle voice. Even the small voice in his head that warned him not to get too carried away sounded less persistent than usual, as if it was slowly but surely starting to give up its struggle.

"Last week was really a hassle", the Spaniard sighed, the fatigue prominent in his voice regardless of the smile playing on his lips. "That practice game pretty much came out of nowhere, though I do think it was good to have at least one of those before our first actual match…" He continued while Lovino simply listened, occasionally stealing a quick glance at him.

"What about you?" Antonio suddenly asked, catching the Italian off guard.

"Huh?" He blinked, feeling stupid for his slow response. "Uh…" What _had_ he been doing for the past few weeks, really? _Mostly just thinking about Antonio…_ It wasn't like he would say that aloud though, he thought, feeling a frustratingly familiar sense of heat on his cheeks. He hoped the Spaniard wouldn't notice anything in the soft light of the streetlamps lining the path. "Nothing special, really... I've just read some poems."

"Really? You like poetry?" Antonio cast him a curious glance, causing Lovino to focus his eyes back on the ground before his feet. He hadn't thought what he'd said had been that interesting, but the Spaniard seemed genuinely curious nevertheless.

"Yeah… How about you?" It was Lovino's turn to give the Spaniard an inquiring look as they passed the bench they had been sitting on the previous time they'd properly hug out. For the Italian's partial surprise, Antonio let out a small chuckle while running a hand through his hair in an almost embarrassed manner.

"Well, literature's not really one of my strongest points…"

Lovino raised an eyebrow at the Spaniard, earning another chuckle from him. "Are you saying you suck at literature?" He asked, slightly incredulous about his discovery. He had always been able to score high points in his literature essays at school, even without much of an effort. Also, he thought with slight embarrassment, it had never really occurred to him that Antonio could actually be bad at something.

"I guess you could put it like that" The brunet laughed, casting an amused look at the Italian's expression. "Hey, that stuff can be really hard to figure out, especially poems…"

Lovino chuckled at the Spaniard's attempt to defend himself while absently tucking his hands in his jacket pockets. He still found it hard to believe how easy it was to talk with Antonio, who always seemed so open and relaxed. It was exactly because of this ease and openness that the Spaniard spoke with that enabled Lovino to feel so comfortable around him. That, and the way his smile never failed to reach his eyes, giving them that warm sparkle, distinguishable even in the dim light of the streetlamps.

"You know, Lovino…" Antonio started quietly as they neared the gates leading out from the campus area. "…I really missed you in these past few weeks." He met Lovino's eyes for a few seconds, giving him a small, lopsided smile. For some reason, the look in his eyes made Lovino's heart skip a few beats before he quickly averted his gaze, instead fixing his eyes on the ground before his feet. The lightheadedness he'd felt just a moment ago quickly made way for the painfully strong feelings buried in his heart.

The Italian swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as he'd recognized the emotion in Antonio's voice, the same emotion that was responsible for the ache in Lovino's chest. He wanted to believe those words so bad that it physically hurt. He wanted to shake off all the lingering doubt and fear and simply _believe,_ believe that Antonio truly cared about Lovino as much as Lovino cared about him. But if he now let down his guard, if he simply gave in to what his heart desired, what guarantee was there that he wouldn't end up disappointing the Spaniard?

None, there was nothing to guarantee that. Yet the honest words still somehow escaped his lips, as if all the pent-up emotion inside Lovino finally needed to be let out: "I missed you too."

The Italian's words were merely a faint whisper, but somehow they still reached the Spaniard who came to a halt next to him. The smile on his lips had to be the most beautiful thing Lovino had ever seen, and the look in his brilliant, green eyes was full of affection as he met the Italian's eyes. It was almost as if time suddenly slowed down, and all Lovino could do was stare into those beautiful, vibrant eyes as Antonio slowly stepped closer and gently brushed a strand of loose hair off Lovino's face.

The Italian's breath hitched as he realized what was about to happen as Antonio lightly rested his hand on his cheek while closing in the remaining distance between them. In no more than a few seconds, a thousand frantic thoughts seemed to race through Lovino's mind, all at the same time. Antonio was going to kiss him. _Antonio was actually going to kiss him._ Lovino was sure he had never wanted to do anything as much as he now wanted to kiss Antonio. He _needed_ Antonio, he _needed_ to kiss him, he _needed_ to be as close to him as humanly possible.

And yet he couldn't do it. He couldn't take the risk of being abandoned again. He had already lost his mother, who had been the only one to truly understand him, the only one who had truly loved him for who he was instead of just wishing he was more like Feliciano. No, he couldn't let that happen again; he knew he wouldn't be able to survive that pain again, not without his heart finally shattering into a million pieces.

As the Italian forced his body away from Antonio, he was sure nothing could've hurt him more than what he'd just done. He could barely hear the Spaniard's apology over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He could only catch a quick glimpse of the hurt look on his face before he turned his back at him and took off the same way they'd walked together just a minute ago. Nothing could've been further from that warm and fuzzy feeling that had filled him then than the painful guilt and regret now weighing down his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be up in a week or two, depending on how quickly I work on the chapters I have in stock! Thank you so much to everyone who has read my story so far - please feel free to leave me a comment to tell me your thoughts on it!
> 
> Translations:
> 
> s'amuser - to have fun


	6. Chapter 6

When Lovino woke up the next morning, his first thought was simply to go back to sleep. That way he would be able to avoid dealing with his problems even for a few more hours, he thought, as he groggily tucked his blanket to cover him all the way up to his chin and closed his eyes to shut out the way too bright sunlight seeping from the cracks between the window blinds. However, after laying still for only a couple of seconds, he came to the conclusion that no matter how hard he tried, there was no way he could actually go back to sleep.

He sighed deeply, angrily narrowing his eyes at the large window on the opposite wall. He found it a little hard to appreciate the beautiful weather when his own life was a mess he didn't know how to fix. Or maybe he did know – deep in his heart, he knew what was the only sensible thing to do, the only thing that could at least potentially lift the crushing weight off his chest. But that was the catch: _potentially._ For all he knew, Antonio could've very well hated him by now. In fact, Lovino would've been surprised if he _didn't_ hate him after the way he had pushed him away and ran off like that.

The hurt look in the Spaniard's beautiful eyes flashed in the Italian's mind for the thousandth time, making the invisible weight on his chest grow heavier, to the point where he felt like he couldn't breathe. If anything, that look had finally forced him to abandon the idea that Antonio was just playing games with him, simply in search of a little fun. However, he thought, unable to get the image off his mind, it had also shattered Lovino's heart, the heart which he had so persistently tried to protect by running away, into tiny pieces.

But why? Why did the Spaniard have to look at him like that, with such a warm smile on his lips and such a gentle look in those brilliant eyes of his, like instead of his countless flaws, he only saw the good in him? What was it that made him feel that way about Lovino, enough to make him want to kiss him? Lovino still couldn't understand, and he feared that because of his own self-consciousness, he might have ruined his chances of ever finding out.

No, he couldn't let that happen. He would have to find out, he would have to talk to Antonio and find out. But even though he knew that he would have to do it eventually, the thought of Antonio resenting him and abandoning him turned his insides to ice. The Italian rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow. The feelings of helplessness and loneliness were painfully familiar to him, but he wondered if he had ever felt quite so lost, quite so _alone_ as he did now.

It was then that his phone started to vibrate on his nightstand, signaling an incoming call. The sound was so sudden and loud compared to the otherwise silent room that it made Lovino wince. In the same way as after being woken up by a particularly intrusive alarm in the early hours of morning, Lovino instinctively reached out for his phone to shut off the noise. However, after he'd recovered from his initial shock, his hand suddenly froze on its way to grab the phone from the nightstand.

What if it was Antonio who was calling him? A sense of panic quickly filled the Italian, making his limbs feel numb and his heart race painfully fast. He knew he would have to face Antonio at some point – he damn well knew that, but yet he was too scared to do it, unable to bear the thought of the Spaniard resenting him. He didn't even know what he would say, how he would explain what had made him run off like that the day before. There was no way he would be able to face him so suddenly without any warning or chance to prepare himself.

The Italian squeezed his eyes shut, trying to take a calming breath as he swallowed with some difficulty. Then he finally grabbed his phone from the small table beside his bed and opened the cover. He remained staring blankly at the name on the screen for a couple of seconds, feeling an immense sense of relief replace his earlier panic.

It wasn't Antonio who was calling him after all. It was Feliciano.

Whether it was simply because he was momentarily dazed from the sudden sense of relief, or because he had been feeling so lost and desperate that the idea of hearing his brother's familiar voice provided him with a feeling of safety, Lovino wasn't sure, but nevertheless, due to some unconscious impulse, he ended up picking up the call.

" _Fratello!_ You missed my call _again_!"

Even though Lovino had no means of actually seeing his brother, he could still hear the pout in his voice. Feliciano's familiar face surfaced in his mind, and for the first time in a long while he almost wished he was back at home with his brother and Grandpa Roma. _Almost._ I reality, he knew there was no way he could go back to his earlier life again – not after meeting Antonio and experiencing so many feelings he had never known even existed back then.

The Italian slowly flopped back onto his bed, hugging his pillow as he thickly swallowed the growing lump in his throat.

 _"Fratello?"_ Feliciano repeated, this time with a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah." Lovino's voice cracked slightly on the single word he managed to utter, but he was too despondent to even care.

"What's wrong?"

Hearing the evident concern in his brother's voice made the bottled up emotions swell dangerously in Lovino's chest, forcing the Italian to close his eyes in an effort to keep the wave of emotions from engulfing him entirely. After a few seconds of expectant silence from Feliciano, Lovino finally opened his mouth again. "I'm an idiot, Feli…" he breathed against his pillow, the words coming out strangely muffled and barely audible.

"What? No, you're not an idiot, Lovi!" the younger Italian exclaimed immediately, then paused for a second and added in a more thoughtful tone, "why would you say that?"

Lovino sniffed weakly, pressing his chin against the pillow. He felt like simply hearing his brother's comfortingly familiar voice had made all strength leave his body, leaving him utterly weak and tired. Even in his mind, the frantic thoughts had faded into nothing more than background noise, leaving his head with a strange, empty feeling.

"Antonio tried to kiss me." The Italian found himself saying out loud the only thing that was still present in his mind, whispering it more to himself than anyone else.

His words were followed by a short silence, during which Lovino blankly thought that his brother probably hadn't even heard him. However, soon enough he heard Feliciano take a deep breath, as the meaning of Lovino's words finally sunk in to his understanding. "But… That's wonderful!" He breathed out excitedly before again lapsing into an uncertain silence. "Wait… tried?" He said slowly, and Lovino could almost see the concerned frown on his face. "Lovi, what happened?"

"I fucked up." His voice was thick and faint, yet laden with the pain and bitterness that filled his chest. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, certain that if he spoke even a word more, he would surely burst into tears. And once that happened, he knew wouldn't be able to hold back anymore.

"Lovi…" Feliciano said quietly, a strangely soothing tone to his voice. "You really love him."

"Of course I love him! I…" Lovino started with a sudden sense of frustration, then trailed of as it struck him what he had just said. He blinked, suddenly aware of the fact that he had risen on his elbows during his outburst. He slowly let himself fall back onto his pillow, taking in a deep breath to calm himself down.

Of course he loved Antonio – surely that should've been obvious to him by now. And yet the reality of it had only hit him now that he had actually said the words out loud. _He loved Antonio._ And yet he had still turned him down the previous evening when he'd tried to kiss him, too resolved to protect himself to realize that it was way too late to turn back now without getting his heart broken for sure.

"I told you. So, you shouldn't worry about it so much", Feliciano said lightly, as if it really were as simple as that. A disbelieving frown appeared on Lovino's face.

"I shouldn't worry about it even though Antonio probably hates me now?" The words left Lovino's lips in a heated burst before he could even consider composing himself again. How could even Feliciano say something so senseless without the slightest bit of hesitation? Surely it was obvious that things were more complicated than that, that there was no way Antonio would just shrug it off and still like Lovino after what had happened?

"What? Why would he hate you?" Feliciano asked, as if Lovino's words hadn't made any sense to him.

"How could he _not_ hate me?" Lovino exclaimed with incredulousness. "I just fucking ran off and left him there!" He took in a shaky breath, then continued with a slight quiver in his voice: "I didn't know what to do, I was scared that…" He trailed off, pursing his lips together as he almost said the words he'd promised himself he would never bring up again, for both his own and his brother's sake. _I was scared that I'd end up losing someone important again._

There was a short silence again, during which Lovino buried his face in his pillow and silently cursed himself for being so careless with his words.

"I know, Lovi", Feliciano said quietly. There was a hint of sadness in his otherwise soothing tone, and Lovino knew that his brother knew exactly what he'd been about to say. "But I think he'll make you happy."

Lovino swallowed, raising his chin slightly so that he could again fix his gaze on the wall in front of him, only this time there was a thoughtful frown on his face. If his head hadn't been a complete mess for entirely other reasons, he would've felt unsettled about how Feliciano seemed to see right through him, right into his soul, the way no one had ever been able to do. _Except for Mother, of course._

If his mother had still been there, would she have said the same thing? Lovino's heart stung at the thought, and he quickly tried to shake it off his mind. Nevertheless, he was still fairly sure he knew the answer to that question.

" _Fratello?_ " His brother's quiet voice brought him back from his thoughts, startling him slightly. He clutched the phone against his ear and let out a shaky breath.

Of course he knew the answer. Just being able to hear Antonio's gentle voice or see that beautiful, warm smile on his face had made Lovino happier than he remembered being in years. The memories from the night before flashed in his mind for the thousandth time, and he felt the lump in his throat grow painfully large as he remembered the way the Spaniard had brushed a strand of hair off his face and slowly leaned in with what had to be the gentlest, most beautiful smile Lovino had ever seen… The Italian blinked as the ache in his chest grew almost unbearable, making him feel like he was suffocating.

There was no way he could ever be happy again without Antonio. That much he knew for sure.

"What should I do?" He asked faintly, even though he knew there was only one answer to that question, as well.

"You need to talk to him." Feliciano said instantly, and Lovino wondered briefly if he'd ever heard such determination in his brother's voice.

"And how do I do that?"

"You go to where he lives and confess to him!"

"Confess what?"

" _Your feelings_ , Lovi, isn't that supposed to be obvious?" His brother said emphatically, starting to sound exasperated at his brother's unwillingness to understand what he was saying.

Lovino could feel his face heat up at his brother's words, and he couldn't decide whether he felt more embarrassed or terrified at the thought. His stomach twisted unpleasantly as he thought of all the things that could go wrong, making him let out a weak groan and bury his face in his free hand.

"Lovi, he tried to _kiss_ you", Feliciano continued in his emphatic tone. "He _likes_ you."

Maybe his brother was right. Maybe if he just went to Antonio's place and talked to him, everything would be alright. But still the mere idea of Antonio hating him was too much too much for him to handle. He knew he wouldn't be able to survive that, but if he didn't even talk to him, wouldn't the outcome be the same anyway? He was completely cornered, no matter how he looked at it - he had driven himself into a dead end, and now he would have to face the consequences, cling on to the hope that maybe he could still make everything alright.

"Just trust me, _fratello_." Lovino could hear the smile in his brother's voice, and he wondered again how he suddenly seemed to mature. Wasn't he, Lovino, supposed to be the older brother, and not the other way around? He felt a small prick of embarrassment at the thought, but it faded quickly as his thoughts returned to the bigger problem at hand. He would show his younger brother his place some other time, but he had to admit that hearing his reassuring voice might have just given him the extra bit of courage he had needed.

After finally ending the call, Lovino carefully placed his phone back on the nightstand and slowly stood up. His stomach twisted painfully, mostly due to the overwhelming sense of dread that seemed to reach every single cell in his body, although it might've had something to do with the fact that he hadn't eaten anything after his late lunch the day before. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down as he clenched his fists to top his arms from trembling.

He was going to do this. He knew that the longer he waited, the harder it would actually be to face Antonio. And he would have to face him. The mere idea of not seeing the Spaniard's warm smile or hearing his gentle voice ever again was enough to make his insides turn to ice. It was even more painful, even more unbearable than the anxiousness caused by the idea of having to face him after what had happened.

Determined to fulfill his resolution before he could change his mind, Lovino quickly changed into the clothes he had left on the floor beside his bed the day before, grabbed his keys from his desk and marched to the door. He rested his fingers on the handle for a couple of seconds, giving up the futile attempt of trying to stop them from trembling. Then he pushed open the door and entered the hallway, barely noticing the couple who walked past him as he fixed his eyes at the metal doors of the elevators down the corridor.

It didn't take him long to find the correct door, which was located on the fourth floor of the same building, as Antonio had mentioned. As he came to a slow halt in front of the name plate, he felt the earlier jittery sense of anxiety suddenly leave him, replaced by a dreadful coldness that made both his mind and his limbs go numb for a moment. Below _Bonnefoy_ , which Lovino guessed was the surname of Antonio's French roommate, read the name _Fern_ _ández_ in similar, plain letters.

_"I'm Antonio. Antonio Fernández Carriedo."_ _A cheerful smile played on the Spaniard's lips as he looked at Lovino from behind the counter with that vivid sparkle in his emerald eyes._

Lovino could feel his throat grow unpleasantly dry as the scene from his first meeting with Antonio suddenly replayed in his mind. The Italian swallowed, trying to shake the memory off his mind as the last remnants of energy seemed to leave his already numb body. There really was only one thing left to be done now, he thought as he took a weak step towards the door and pressed the doorbell. All he could do was desperately hope that he could still make everything alright, desperately hope that this wouldn't become the day when his heart was permanently shattered to pieces.

Time seemed to slow down as he stood there behind the Spaniard's door, counting the seconds as they passed. When he got to twelve seconds, the earlier panic started to replace his momentary feeling of emptiness. What would he do if the Spaniard never opened the door? The mere idea of Antonio resenting him and never wanting to see him again made Lovino's breath hitch in his throat as he suddenly found it very hard to breathe…

The Italian was so overwhelmed by the surge of sheer panic that it took him a couple of seconds to realize that the door in front of him had been opened. When he lifted up his gaze, he was immediately met with the brilliant emerald eyes that he had been both dreading and longing to see ever since the night before. However, instead of sparkling with their usual cheerful warmth, they were currently wide from astonishment and held a pained look that made Lovino's heart ache with guilt.

After spending a few more seconds frozen in his tracks, Lovino finally snapped out of the momentary daze. He would have never guessed that it was possible to feel so many emotions at once as he did now: He was sure his heart would burst at any minute under the strain, and before he knew it, he had somehow managed to stumble towards the Spaniard and tightly wrap his arms around him, burying his face in his shirt. He was distantly aware of Antonio's arms embracing him and pressing him closer against his warm body as he finally released the flood of emotions that had been building up in his chest.

For the first time in years, he let out all his deep, painful emotions without even trying to hold back, letting his tears soak the Spaniard's shirt as breathy sobs escaped his lips, making his whole body tremble. It felt both incredibly painful and utterly relieving at the same time: For years, he had tried to hide his true feelings thinking that it would make him less vulnerable, thinking that it would protect him from being hurt. And yet, he thought bitterly, all it had done in the end was cause him even more pain.

Lovino felt Antonio's fingers gently touch his hair as he just stood there, pressed against the Spaniard's warm, strong body like it was the only thing keeping him safe from an invisible enemy. The Spaniard's touch seemed to gain more confidence as he soothingly stroked the Italian's hair, letting his chin rest against his neck. Lovino kept his eyes closed, breathing in the faint scent of soap in the Spaniard's shirt, focusing on his gentle touch and the comforting warmth of his body.

They stayed like that for a while, neither of them feeling the need to say anything. Even if he'd wanted to say something, Lovino was fairly certain he wouldn't have been able to speak a word without simply bursting into uncontrollable sobs again: He felt so overwhelmed by emotion that he was practically leaning against Antonio in order to stay standing, his own legs feeling too weak to properly support his weight. At some point, he noticed that the Spaniard's arms were trembling slightly around him, as if he was on the verge of tears, too.

"I love you, Lovino", the Spaniard finally spoke, his voice not more than a hoarse whisper mumbled softly into Lovino's hair.

Lovino swallowed with slight difficulty, his voice coarse and shaky as he spoke: "But... But why?" The Italian weakly detached himself from the taller boy, slightly disoriented after keeping his eyes shut for so long. He kept his gaze at the floormat under his feet, incapable of meeting the Spaniard's eyes. "I don't understand..." His voice was barely more than a faint whisper as he briefly closed his eyes again, feeling the hot tears roll down his already damp cheeks.

The Spaniard softly touched his cheek, wiping off a few newly spilled tears with his thumb. Then he gently lifted up the smaller boy's chin, a small smile playing on his lips. He carefully examined his tear-soaked face with a warm and tender look in his emerald eyes, like it was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Lovino's chest ached as he was forced to meet the Spaniard's eyes, and he realized he was again trembling in the taller boy's hold. How could Antonio possibly look at him like that, in such a sincerely affectionate way, like he was something beautiful and lovable, like there was nothing about him that displeased him? How could he completely fail to see any of Lovino's faults, and smile at him like all he ever wanted to do was hold him close?

Antonio still hadn't removed his hand from the Italian's cheek, his gentle fingers pressing against the younger boy's heated skin. Then he finally broke the eye contact, closing his eyes briefly, the smile still intact on his tan face. "Lovino… How could I not love you? You're absolutely adorable." His voice was soft and gentle and full of warmth that filled Lovino's aching chest to the brim.

The Italian's body stopped trembling as Antonio gently kissed him on the forehead, then pulled him into a hug again, carefully wrapping his arms around his middle. Lovino's knees felt close to giving out, and he leant against the Spaniard's solid warmth, thankful for the pair of strong arms supporting him as he closed his eyes and breathed in Antonio's comforting scent.

"You're adorable, Lovino", the Spaniard softly mumbled into his hair, and any traces of doubt that still remained in Lovino's mind shattered into a million pieces. He could feel Antonio's warm breath on the top of his head and his strong arms around his waist. He felt utterly safe and comfortable, he felt like he belonged there in Antonio's arms. "Don't you ever forget that", the Spaniard continued, pressing a light kiss on the top of his head.


	7. Chapter 7

For probably the first time in his life, Lovino woke up on a Monday morning and felt a warm sense of happiness fill him as he recalled the events of the day before in his head. He completed his whole morning routine in a slightly dazed state, still finding it hard to comprehend that everything had actually happened the way he remembered it, that he wasn't just too sleepy to tell what was dream and what was reality.

But as the Italian left his flat and started heading for his English Literature class, his sleepiness finally began to wear off and the reality of it all struck him properly for the first time: Antonio had told him he loved him. Antonio had held him in his arms and told him he loved him, his voice full of the same, overwhelming emotion that filled Lovino's own heart. And this time he believed him: He had finally been forced to throw away all that doubt and anxiety he had been clinging onto; he had been given no choice but to believe that despite all his flaws, Antonio really loved him.

He couldn't help but to feel amazed at how much meeting the Spaniard had really ended up changing his life: After so many years of feeling like he could never be good enough, like all he could do was cause everyone trouble, Lovino had found someone who could look at him without any distaste, eyes filled only with gentle adoration. It made the Italian feel like he mattered, like he wasn't only the failure he'd been told he was for countless times in the past.

Despite the warmth and happiness the Spaniard had brought into Lovino's life, the Italian nevertheless found the sudden change quite difficult to get used to. He had been covering behind his emotional defenses for so long that now that they had suddenly been taken down, he felt strangely bare and vulnerable. He was well aware of the fact that those defenses hadn't ended up doing him much good in the first place, as they had mostly just been an extra source of anxiety and distress, but the thought of being completely vulnerable still somewhat unsettled him.

However, he had willingly accepted the risk of letting someone past his defenses the day before when he had stumbled into Antonio's arms, unable to hold back his emotions any longer. It had been the only sensible thing left to be done at that point, when it had been already way too late to turn back and return to his earlier life. Even if he had been given the choice, even if he could've altered the past so that he would've never met Antonio, he knew he wouldn't have done it: Even though the disposition certainly had its risks, Lovino couldn't help but to think that whatever happened to him in the future, just being able to feel so _loved_ even once in his life was worth the risk.

The rest of the week passed by rather slowly, as Lovino kept waiting for the weekend and the prospect of spending time with Antonio. He knew how busy the Spaniard was with the first match of the season less than two weeks away, which made him fear that he might not have any time to spare even during the weekend. However, his fear proved to be futile on Thursday during his World History lecture, when Antonio messaged him to ask him if he would like to have dinner together with him on Saturday. While the message was a very pleasant surprise for the Italian, it also somewhat disturbed his concentration during the lecture, which suddenly didn't seem so interesting now that he had dinner with Antonio to look forward to.

Later that day Lovino headed to the university's soccer field, which was located behind the library and arts building at the back of the campus area. He was supposed to meet Antonio there and walk back to their flats together with him, just so that they could exchange a few words in person after only relying on WhatsApp messages for the past week. Even though he was excited to see Antonio, he couldn't help but to feel nervous about having to meet all his teammates as well. His earlier experience on school sports club members was hardly positive, and even though he was well aware of the difference between high school kids and university-level athletes, he could feel his hands grow sweaty and his stomach twist unpleasantly as he approached the field.

It was the first time Lovino had ever visited the school sports field, and he was slightly taken aback by the sheer size of it as he came to a halt next to one of the goals. Massive stands rose on both sides of the actual field which was illuminated by tall lamps, making it look nothing like the sports fields in the various high schools Lovino had attended. The entrances to what had to be the changing rooms were located under the stands, and as Lovino watched, the nearest of the doors abruptly swung open.

It was Antonio who stepped out from the doorway, carrying a large sports bag and wearing a pair of red shorts and a sweat-soaked white t-shirt that fit him rather snugly. The brunet's lips instantly spread into a bright smile as he saw Lovino waiting for him next to the field, and he didn't waste any time striding his way to the Italian. As the Spaniard proceeded to wrap his arms tightly around him, Lovino felt a familiar sense of comforting warmth quickly replace his remaining nervousness. He wasn't alone anymore, after all. He had Antonio there beside him, so what was there to be nervous about?

"I missed you", the Spaniard whispered in his ear, his warm breath sending shivers down Lovino's back. The Italian simply tightened his hold around the brunet's back, pressing his cheek closer to his firm chest.

It was only when Antonio eventually pulled away that the Italian finally got a proper look at his face: The light from the lamp nearest to them illuminated his sculpted features, giving his sweaty skin a healthy glow. Strands of rich brown hair fell on his face, enhancing the emerald green of his sparkling eyes and the warm tone of his skin. For a moment, Lovino found it incredibly hard to get his eyes off the Spaniard, who had reached out to gently run his fingers through his hair, with such an affectionate look in his eyes that the Italian felt like he would melt if he stayed under it for too long.

It was then that the sound of loud chattering reached Lovino's ears, and he realized that the door to the locker room must've been opened again. He felt Antonio lace their fingers together and give his hand a gentle squeeze as he turned to face his teammates, who were now streaming out from the opened door. Lovino felt a hint of his earlier nervousness return as he warily studied the faces of the newcomers, some of whom were giving him curious looks as they approached them.

Suddenly a blond boy with a firm build and rectangular glasses pushed his way through the others, waving at Antonio with a wide grin on his face. Lovino inched closer to the Spaniard warily, keeping a firm grip on his hand as the blond finally came to a halt before them, the look in his bright blue eyes way too curious for Lovino's liking. Then, much to the Italian's relief, he finally turned his look to Antonio, his expression quickly changing into an almost Feliciano-like pout.

"Buddy! Why did you never tell me you had a boyfriend? One who's this cute, too!"

Lovio blinked as the blond kept pouting at Antonio for a few more seconds, then finally turned his attention to the Italian, promptly offering him his hand. "I'm Alfred Jones, captain of the soccer team!"

Lovino kept staring dumbfoundedly at the blond, taken aback by his over-excited attitude as his hand was violently shaken in his grip. However, before he could even attempt to free himself, another teammate of Antonio reached them and placed his hand on Alfred's shoulder, causing him to reluctantly release Lovino's hand. As the arrival fixed him with an apologetic look, the Italian noticed that he looked startlingly similar to Alfred: He had the same blond hair and blue eyes and even seemingly identical glasses. The only distinguishable difference in their appearances seemed to be their hair length – Alfred's hair was slightly shorter than the newcomer's – and the fact that where Alfred was basically bouncing with excitement, his look-alike had a calm and controlled air to him.

"Alfred, stop bothering the poor guy." The arrival's voice was surprisingly stern compared to his calm demeanor, and when he glanced from Lovino to Antonio, the Italian could discern a look of realization in his eyes. Before he could speculate any further, however, the blond disturbed his thoughts by addressing him.

"I'm Matthew Williams, nice to meet you."

Lovino shook Matthew's hand while eyeing him warily. There was something about his calm friendliness that unnerved Lovino, along with the knowing look in his eyes: The blond seemed like the type of person who was hard to read, and the Italian usually tended to avoid people whose intentions he had trouble predicting.

Antonio exchanged a couple of words with his two teammates, after which Matthew more or less forcibly dragged Alfred away to join the stream of soccer players leaving the field. As they walked past, many of them gave Lovino curious looks that made his cheeks involuntarily heat up. He all but enjoyed having so many people look at him, but having his fingers still entwined with Antonio's made the situation more bearable than usual.

"So, how did you find my teammates?" Antonio asked as they watched the stream of soccer players head back towards the dormitories. There was an amused smile playing on his lips, but his eyes studied Lovino carefully, almost in a worried manner. "They didn't make you feel uncomfortable, did they?" He added a few seconds later, still carefully examining the Italian before him.

Lovino shook his head, slightly embarrassed for making Antonio worry about him. "I'm fine", he muttered, even as his brows creased into a thoughtful frown. "That blond guy, Matthew… What's up with him?" He fixed his eyes at Antonio, still troubled by the knowing look in the friendly blond's eyes.

"Matthew?" The Spaniard's brows first shot up in surprise at Lovino's words, but then he seemed to understand what the Italian was on about, which caused him to let out an amused chuckle. "You noticed that?" he asked, looking at the Italian with a mixture of awe and amusement apparent on his face.

Lovino narrowed his eyes in suspicion, causing the Spaniard to smile and let out a small sigh as a sign of resignation. "Alright, alright", he chuckled. "I might have mentioned you to him. Not by name, but I guess he figured out I was talking about you."

"What did you tell him?" the Italian demanded, his narrowed eyes still closely fixed at the brunet standing before him.

"Just that I missed you", the Spaniard said in a light tone, but regardless of the smile still playing on his lips, Lovino could distinguish a wistful look in his eyes.

"Oh." The Italian finally dropped his gaze, feeling a familiar heat in the tips of his ears at the Spaniard's sincere words. It was infuriating how just a few words from Antonio could still make him so flustered, just like during the first times they'd spoken to each other.

"You look so cute right now", Antonio pointed out after a few seconds of silence, and Lovino could hear the smile in his voice even without looking at him.

The Italian silently cursed himself as he felt his face grow dangerously warm, and he couldn't stop himself from fixing the Spaniard with a deep scowl for daring to further embarrass him. It didn't prove to be very effective, though, as all he got in return was a dazzling smile before the Spaniard proceeded to wrap his arm around his waist and pull him close to his side.

"You bastard…" Lovino muttered even as he resigned to rest his head against Antonio's shoulder and let the brunet gently stroke his hair.

**xxx**

After his afternoon practice on Saturday, Antonio was faced with the challenge of persuading Francis to spend the evening somewhere else than in their flat. It wasn't an easy task, as the Frenchman was very eager to meet Antonio's ' _petit ami'_ , but that was all the reason why Antonio was so determined to get him out before the Italian arrived: He didn't want to impose Lovino to any unnecessary trauma, and Francis was pretty much the last person one should introduce to someone who had the tendency to feel anxious around new people, as the Frenchman seemed to be completely unfamiliar with the concept of personal space – both mental and physical.

The Spaniard did succeed in the end, but it was barely five minutes after the Frenchman had grudgingly headed out the door that the sound of the doorbell ringing signaled Lovino's arrival. By then, Antonio had barely had time to gather and wash the dinner ingredients and chop a single carrot, and he had no choice but to abandon the idea of serving the Italian a ready meal. However, Lovino didn't seem to mind this, and he even offered to help Antonio prepare the food.

The Spaniard had always enjoyed cooking, and he was happy to see that Lovino seemed to share his passion: The ease with which the Italian neatly chopped the green pepper into small dices made it hard for Antonio to look away from the swift movements of his slim fingers. There was always certain beauty in the movements of someone who knew what he was doing so well that he could make the task look effortless, even though it obviously required a formidable amount of skill that could only be gained through years of practice.

With Lovino's help, the food was ready in no time and the two boys took their seats at the kitchen table, casually chatting as they began to eat. The dinner they'd prepared together was a simple Spanish rice dish that Antonio had used to make with his mum back at home. When he mentioned this to Lovino, however, the Italian's shoulders tensed and he blinked as if he'd been slapped in the face. The look in his eyes made Antonio's heart twist painfully, and he felt the sudden need to hug the Italian. However, something about the guarded look on his face told Antonio that such a gesture wouldn't be appreciated, and he settled with quickly changing the subject.

By the time they finished their dinner, the tension had long ago faded and the relaxed atmosphere had returned. The two brought their dishes to the kitchen sink, after which Antonio promptly took Lovino's hand and led him back to the living room.

"Come, I'll show you my room", the Spaniard said as he gestured at the correct door with his free hand.

He pressed down the handle and opened the door, revealing a simple bedroom that had the same layout as in all the other campus flats the Spaniard had visited: There was a bed next to the left-hand-side wall, tall white cabinets lining the wall on the right, and an office desk facing the large window on the back wall. The space in the center of the room was empty apart from a worn-out red backpack and a large sports bag that were lying on the floor next to the cabinet doors. The only other possessions visible were the laptop, and a pile of books and school supplies that were arranged on the office desk in a supposedly orderly manner, and the single picture that was taped to one of the cabinet doors.

Now that he thought about it, there really wasn't much to see in his room. He mostly just used it for sleeping and studying, and he didn't usually invite anyone in there – he preferred working on group projects in the school library, and whenever he hung out with his teammates outside of practice, it was usually in Alfred's or someone else's flat. However, now he had felt the sudden need to show it to Lovino, as if letting the Italian into that plain room would somehow bring him closer to Antonio, deepen the connection between them.

Antonio wasn't exactly sure why he felt that way, but he had the feeling that it must have had something to do with the look of pain he'd seen in the Italian's eyes earlier when they'd been eating, as well as on different occasions before. It was the look of someone who was lost, alone and hurt, a look that stung Antonio's heart not just because it hurt him to see Lovino in pain, but because he _knew_ what it felt like to be alone in a world that seemed way too big and overwhelming. He didn't want to pressure the Italian into telling him what exactly he'd been through, but he wanted to be there for him, he wanted to show him that he didn't need to be alone anymore.

"What's this?"

Antonio's eyes followed Lovino, who stood next to the cabinets, carefully trailing his finger over the lone decoration in the room. The Spaniard walked to where he was standing, a small smile forming on his lips as he looked at the picture on one of the cabinet doors. It had been taken in the spring of his last year of high school, after his team had won gold in the regional soccer league. The players were dressed in their green sports uniforms, wearing gold medals around their necks and smiling widely at the camera, arms slung over each other's shoulders. Antonio was in the middle of the picture, standing next to a shorter boy with curly dark hair and brown eyes.

"That's my old team", the Spaniard finally said, the nostalgic smile still playing on his lips as he finally tore his eyes off the picture and fixed his look briefly on Lovino, who had a thoughtful frown on his face. The Spaniard then proceeded to sit on the bed on the opposite side of the small room, patting the mattress beside him as a cue for Lovino to join him.

"Was it hard for you?" The Italian asked after a short moment of sitting next to Antonio in silence. As he spoke, he gave the Spaniard a sideways glance with his brows creased in a small, thoughtful frown. "Leaving Spain to come here?"

Antonio's eyes instinctively shifted to the picture on the cabinet door before he dropped his gaze to his lap. Before he had been promised a spot in his current team, he had never really thought that far ahead: Sure, he had known from a fairly young age that he wanted to continue playing soccer – that had come without question, as soccer had basically been his whole life back then. However, he hadn't actually paid all that much thought to how everything would work out in practice. Not before the summer after his second year of high school.

During that summer, he had been picked as one of the promising young players who would get to participate in an elite training camp in Barcelona. Before then, he had never left his home town for more than a week at a time, and spending an entire month in a totally new environment with people he had never met before had already been an experience in itself. However, what actually ended up changing his life had been the news he'd got shortly after the end of the camp: Based on his performance during the program, he had been scouted for a famous American college which was especially known for its prestigious soccer team.

It wasn't that he hadn't been aware of his exceptional talent in soccer before that, but his motivation had always come from the love for the sport, not the prospect of success. However, the news about being scouted had opened his eyes properly for the first time: It wasn't just an overly optimistic childhood dream anymore, but he might actually be able to play soccer as his profession. He could play on the same field as the famous players whom he admired, and his mother could watch him from the stands and be proud of him. He would finally be able to provide his mother with enough money like his father had never bothered to do.

That dream had changed Antonio's life by lighting a new kind of fire within him. Every time he learned a new trick or noticed that a move which had used to cause him difficulties suddenly didn't seem all that hard after all, he felt like he was a little closer to his goal, a little closer to his dream. Still, knowing that none of his teammates would follow him to the States always gave him a sense of melancholy whenever he thought about it. And then, of course, there was also his mother: She had never tried to stop him from leaving, only ever encouraging him to follow his dreams, but he could still remember the wistful look on her face when she'd given him a final hug at the airport.

The Spaniard lifted his gaze back up to glance at the Italian sitting next to him. A small smile instantly formed on his lips, and his chest filled with an almost painfully strong sense of fondness. There was no doubt he had made the right choice coming here, he thought, as he'd not only been able to follow his dream and passion for soccer, but also found someone who's mere presence could make him feel so incredibly happy.

"It wasn't entirely easy", Antonio admitted, then smiled down at the shorter boy sitting beside him, "but I've never regretted it." He shifted his eyes back to the picture of his high school team, with his young self smiling at him among his old teammates. "I think that… Sometimes you might have to leave home to follow your own path."

Lovino met his eyes for a short moment, and as Antonio saw the look in his beautiful amber eyes, he got the feeling that the Italian knew exactly what he was talking about.

"How about you? Does your family still live in Italy?" Antonio asked tentatively. He wanted to learn more about Lovino and his past, but he was worried he might accidentally upset him by touching a sore topic.

When he saw the Italian visibly tense in reaction to his words, the Spaniard mentally kicked himself for letting his curiosity get the best of him. However, after only a short silence, Lovino slowly shook his head. He had turned his look away from Antonio so that he couldn't see his face, and was holding onto his right forearm with his left hand, which the Spaniard remembered him doing before when feeling anxious.

"No, they live here in the States", Lovino said quietly, still facing away from Antonio. "We… used to live in Italy before, though." His voice became even quieter during the last sentence, and something about his tone made the Spaniard's heart sting painfully.

"You know, my best friend in high school, he was actually part Italian", Antonio said in an attempt to change the subject. "He's the one next to me in that picture." The Spaniard again pointed at the picture on the cabinet door, relieved to see the Italian follow his finger with his eyes. "He was really funny, but also pretty smart. He always got better grades at school than anyone else on the team." Antonio smiled as he reminisced his high school times, eyes still fixed at the old picture and the dark-haired boy who was grinning with his arm slung over young Antonio's shoulders. Even though you couldn't tell it from looking at the picture, he had had to stand on his tip toes to do that, which the rest of the team had considered to be hilarious.

Next to him, Lovino was now also looking at the picture with a curious look on his face. "What did he do after high school?" He asked, and Antonio was relieved to hear that the previous melancholy had cleared from his voice, although he still didn't meet the Spaniard's eyes.

"He got into a college in Málaga. I heard he's doing well, though I didn't see him when I visited home last summer."

Beside him, Lovino nodded thoughtfully, his eyes still fixed at the picture. "When are you next going to Spain?" he asked, this time casting Antonio a quick glance.

"Next summer", he answered after a short pause, his gaze again dropping to his lap. "I don't have enough money to buy the plane tickets for Christmas." He felt slightly embarrassed as he faced Lovino, who's eyebrows had risen slightly in surprise. The truth was that even with a scholarship that covered his tuition fees and accommodation, the Spaniard still had to spend most of his free time working in his part time job to afford basic necessities like food and save enough money for his flights for the next summer.

"Oh", the Italian simply said as a frown quickly appeared on his face. "I didn't know that."

"It's fine, don't worry about that." the Spaniard said quickly with a shake of his head as he felt the Italian's eyes study him closely.

"You know… You're always so busy, are you sure you're okay? You don't get too tired, do you?" Lovino said as he met Antonio's eyes in an unusually determined manner.

Antonio blinked as he was again met by those large, amber eyes which held an unmistakable look of concern. His previous embarrassment suddenly vanished as his heart was filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Even though he did occasionally feel tired because of his busy schedule, his weariness always seemed to disappear whenever he was around Lovino. Instead, he was filled with that bubbly sense of happiness than gave him more energy than any amount of sleep could've ever granted him.

"Don't worry, I can handle it." When he spoke, the Spaniard had more faith in those words than ever before. Surely there was nothing he couldn't do if he just had Lovino by his side, he though as he smiled down at the Italian, fairly sure he saw a tint of pink appear on his cheeks. He suddenly couldn't get his eyes off the Italian's beautiful, delicate features, silky auburn hair and large amber eyes which often held that serious and thoughtful look that was just so much like him, so much like Lovino.

The Spaniard's chest ached as he felt a desperate need to be closer to the Italian, to kiss him and wrap his arms around him and never let go. He swallowed, his look briefly falling to Lovino's lips, which looked so soft and tempting that he decided he wouldn't be able to resist the urge much longer. "Lovino…" he said quietly, almost in a whisper, "can I kiss you?"

The faint tint of pink on Lovino's cheeks turned into a deep shade of red as he quickly averted his eyes, fixing his gaze on the floor before his feet. However, only a few second later he gave the Spaniard a small nod while still refusing to meet his eyes. Antonio wondered briefly how it was even possible for someone to look so incredibly adorable as he carefully cupped the Italian's cheek with his hand and slowly leaned in to kiss him gently on the lips. The Spaniard's chest swelled with happiness as he slowly kissed Lovino, whose lips felt so soft and warm against his own. It felt so incredibly good to touch him like that, to feel his warm breath against his mouth and his smooth, heated skin under his fingers.

When they finally broke apart, Antonio carefully traced his fingers along Lovino's cheek, admiring his soft olive skin which was still flushed in a strong shade of pink. There was the tiniest hint of a smile playing on the Italian's lips, and it had to be the most beautiful thing Antonio had ever seen. He gently caressed his lower lip with his thumb, unable to resist the urge to press one more light kiss on the Italian's soft lips before finally wrapping his arms around his slim waist and pulling him against his chest.

At first, the Spaniard felt Lovino tense slightly in surprise, but after only a short moment he relaxed and rested his cheek against Antonio's chest. The way the Italian's body felt so small and delicate in his arms evoked a protective instinct within the Spaniard, a strong urge to keep him safe from any pain or harm that could possibly threaten him. He instinctively tightened his hold around the smaller boy's waist, breathing in the faint smell of shampoo in his auburn hair.


	8. Chapter 8

The next Saturday, Lovino found himself sitting in the stands of the school's soccer field, surrounded by fellow students he didn't know on all sides. _Well, except for one side,_ the Italian thought as he casted a short glance at Antonio's roommate, Francis, who was seated beside him with his girlfriend. The couple seemed to be engrossed in whatever conversation they were having, but from the few phrases Lovino happened to catch, he decided that he definitely didn't mind being left outside of it. He was also unusually grateful for the chattering crowd around him, as it at least blocked from his hearing most of what had to be the cheesiest conversation he'd ever witnessed.

Joining Francis and his girlfriend had by no means been Lovino's original plan when he'd left his flat twenty minutes or so ago, but by some strange coincidence, he'd ended up running into the Frenchman in the elevator. What kind of luck was that supposed to be, anyway? After that, he'd been forced to listen to the stream of way too personal questions posed to him in an odd mixture of English and French – and accompanied by the occasional suggestive wink – all the way to the stadium, until the Frenchman finally caught sight of his girlfriend and decided that her company was more interesting than Lovino's – which the Italian definitely didn't complain about.

Just like when he'd first met Antonio's roommate earlier that week – which was an experience he really didn't want to go into more detail about – he'd found it very unsettling how little effect his best death glare had on the Frenchman. Only Antonio's presence had somewhat managed to subdue Francis's curiosity, but when he'd presently found himself alone in the Frenchman's company, Lovino had more than once fancied the idea of smacking him across the head. He still wasn't sure whether he was proud of himself for resisting that urge, or whether he actually regretted it, and he couldn't help but to wonder how Antonio managed to put up with sharing a flat with him.

After casting a final more or less discrete frown in the Frenchman's direction, Lovino turned his attention to his surroundings, letting his gaze wander around the stands that circled the soccer field down below, taking in the sheer number of people that were currently gathered there. He had never been to large sports events with his family, and so he had only ever seen such packed stadiums on the TV. Now, however, he was actually witnessing the sight in person, and regardless of the anxiety that large crowds tended to evoke in him, Lovino couldn't help but to feel a little thrilled, as well.

_Antonio will be playing on that field, in front of all these people._

Lovino thought back to the week before and the ease with which the Spaniard had asked him to come see his team's first match of the season. He hadn't appeared nervous at all, just excited, being his usual cheerful self. Lovino had of course agreed to come, and even though he had claimed that Antonio just wanted to show off, he was sincerely curious to see him play. The passion with which the Spaniard spoke about soccer was something Lovino felt like he lacked himself: he had never been the type to get easily excited or to feel motivated to work particularly hard for something – he either was relatively good at something or wasn't, as simple as that.

But after getting to know Antonio, the Italian had started to almost envy his passion and the endless amount of energy he seemed to have within him. He wondered how it was even possible for the Spaniard to work so hard with barely any time to rest and still always manage that cheerful smile that made his eyes sparkle so vibrantly, like he hardly felt any fatigue at all. How the Spaniard managed to do it was a complete mystery to Lovino, but the Italian nevertheless found it to be somehow thrilling, somehow inspiring in a way that he couldn't fully explain, even to himself.

As Lovino watched, the players of the opposing team emerged from their locker room as their names were called one by one by a booming voice that echoed from the speakers around the stadium. They were wearing blue uniforms - except for the goalkeeper, who was wearing bright yellow – and with their serious expressions and athletic frames they looked very much like the professional players Lovino had seen on the TV. Only this time the cheering and whistling that erupted in the stands the moment the players arrived on the field wasn't mere background noise, but instead it hit Lovino's ears with its full volume, making him slightly shrink back in his seat.

If Lovino had thought the noise had been loud then, it must've at least doubled when the time for the home team's introductions came. The people around Lovino – who were all students from his university – stood up as they cheered for their team, and Lovino found himself instinctively following their example by getting on his feet as well. His eyes were closely fixed at the field below, where Antonio's teammates were forming a line player by player as the booming voice announced their names. He recognized Alfred and Matthew, both of whom got a particularly loud round of cheering from Lovino's side of the stands, until it was finally Antonio's turn and the cheering reached its loudest point yet.

As the Spaniard faced the stands before him, Lovino got a glimpse of his face from where he stood, only partially aware of the fact that he was clapping his hands together in the same rhythm as the hundreds of people around him. Even though an expression of firm concentration had replaced the usual smile on Antonio's tan face - which the white jersey so well complimented - Lovino could feel that familiar sparkling energy of his reach him even through the mass of people between them, intense enough to send shivers down the Italian's back.

It didn't take even a full two minutes of watching the game for Lovino to tell that Antonio really was _good._ The Italian wasn't exactly a sports enthusiastic himself, but he wasn't completely clueless about soccer either: he did watch the occasional match every now and then, and he had even played it himself when he'd been younger, if not for very long – it had been Feliciano who'd made him join a team with him, and after his brother had got tired of the regular practices, Lovino had ended up quitting the team as well. However, as he now watched Antonio play, he really didn't have to ask himself why he'd got the loudest round of cheers from the audience.

The Spaniard played attacking midfielder, which Lovino knew to be a very central position in soccer, if not the most important one: The attacking midfielder had both defensive and offensive duties, but what could perhaps be said to be their most important job was organizing the team's attacks and connecting the ball to the other offensive players. That's where Antonio's exceptional skills first became apparent: The extent to which the Spaniard was able to predict his teammates' movements was almost uncanny, and if Lovino hadn't know better, he would've thought they shared some sort of a telepathic connection. However, since he did know better, he was forced to conclude that it was simply the result of their time spent training together, although pure talent certainly had something to do with it as well.

Antonio's teamwork was especially seamless with Alfred, who played the position of the centre forward. It was barely ten minutes into the match when the Spaniard spotted his blond teammate, who had managed to lose his mark for a what seemed like just a fleeting moment. However, that opening was enough for Antonio, who gave him a perfectly aimed centring pass which the American directed into the upper right corner of the goal, missing the goalkeeper's fingertips by a solid foot. Lovino's side of the stands immediately erupted in wild cheers, which the Italian joined in without a bit of hesitation while watching Alfred do his lap of honour as Antonio ran to wrap an arm around his shoulders and ruffle his blond mop of hair before the rest of their teammates shortly joined them in a group hug.

Twenty minutes later, during which the opposing team hadn't managed more than a couple of shots at the goal, none of which were close to actually going in, it was Antonio's turn to score a goal himself. It started off as a completely normal offence for his team: The Spaniard brought the ball over the midfield line and passed it to one of his teammates on the left, who passed along to Alfred. For a moment it looked like the American would actually go for the goal himself, but instead he passed it backwards to Antonio, who had much more space to himself. The Spaniard took on his mark one on one, performing a quick move that allowed him to get shoulder-to-shoulder with him, after which he made a sharp shot for the goal.

The audience, which had seemed to be collectively holding its breath during the last few seconds, came into life once again as the supporters of the home team got on their feet, somehow managing to cheer even louder than the time Alfred had scored a goal. Lovino couldn't help the mood that started to catch on him as he watched Antonio's teammates swarm the Spaniard in a mass of shoulder bumps, hugs and friendly slams on the black so that Lovino barely managed to catch a glimpse of his rich brown locks before he again disappeared under the horde of soccer players that enveloped him.

However, the feeling that swelled in the Italian's chest was more than just the excitement of a regular sports fan, more than the admiration one could feel towards a particularly skilled player: It was an unexpectedly strong sense of pride that came from the knowledge that it was Antonio, _his_ Antonio, who had scored that goal. The sensation was something Lovino had never before experienced, it was something he had never even believed to exist: Instead of feeling inferior to the Spaniard, who had skills Lovino couldn't even dream of having himself, not in soccer or anything else in particular, Lovino only felt pride and happiness, genuine happiness for the success of someone else.

 _No, not just_ someone else, _but the one I love._

For some reason, Lovino didn't feel nearly as embarrassed as he normally would've felt when the realization hit him. He did feel a hint of the familiar heat in the tips of his ears, but somehow it just wasn't as bad as usual. He didn't even feel the need to frown and shake such embarrassing thoughts off his mind, but instead he almost felt the urge to smile as he continued to keep his eyes on the swarm of soccer players in white jerseys that had started to disperse as each member of the team moved back to his position. The feeling was odd and new, but yet it felt strangely natural and somehow liberating, like it was something Lovino had lost a long time ago and only just found again – or something that had been locked away for years and only now brought back to daylight.

The home team dominated the game through the first half of the match, and the best their opponents could do against Matthew and the rest of the defenders was a handful of somewhat decent shots at the goal, none of which seemed to cause the goalkeeper much trouble. However, they seemed determined to at least keep Antonio's team's lead from growing, and their defenders did their best to stop their attacks as early as possible, paying especially close attention to the movements of both Antonio and Alfred. It almost looked like they would manage to keep the score two to zero before the end of the first half, but then Antonio showed them once more how dangerous of an opponent he really was.

There were only three minutes left of the first half of the match, and the player marked by Antonio had the ball. He was clearly feeling the pressure, glancing quickly to his left, then right, looking for someone he could pass to. Antonio saw his opening and lunged for the ball, quickly stealing it from his distracted opponent and taking off towards the other end of the field, where the opposing team's goal was waiting. Antonio, the brightest star of his team, had the momentum on his side, and everybody knew that if he could score one more goal before half time, the game would be more or less over for his opponents. That got the supporters of the home team once more on their feet, as if they could sense the incoming goal.

However, Antonio never made it to the goal.

The player he'd stolen the ball from started after him in a desperate attempt to fix his mistake, the mistake that was about to cost the game for his team. He reached the Spaniard at the midfield line, going for the ball with his left foot. However, they were both running at a formidable speed, and the opposing team player missed the ball, instead slamming hard into the inner side of Antonio's knee.

Everything seemed to freeze around Lovino as he thought that no, it was not normal for someone's knee to bend like that. A sickening feeling settled in his stomach as he watched the two players tumble heavily onto the ground. He barely heard the sound of the referee's whistle or the angry yells let out by the people around him. He barely saw the yellow card held up in the referee's hand, or the opposing team player who pushed himself off the ground to complain about his sentence. No, Lovino didn't care about any of that. Instead, his eyes were glued on Antonio's back as the Spaniard remained curled on the grass, both hands clutched around his right knee.

The angry yells gradually died down around Lovino, turning into concerned mutters as the people perceived the fact that Antonio still hadn't got up, not even after his opponent had been sentenced a yellow card. Even said opponent, a boy with a lean but athletic build and a dark complexion, finally turned his back to the referee, instead focusing his attention to the Spaniard with a mixture of confusion and apprehension settling on his face.

All that time, Lovino was unable to do anything but stare at Antonio's back, which rose and fell in the rhythm of his unsteady breaths, as his brain struggled to understand what had just happened. The Italian felt like the floor under his feet had vanished, leaving him standing on nothing but thin air as the buzzing sound in his ears got progressively louder, until it drowned out all other noise around him. His mind had turned into a garbled mess, incapable of forming anything but one coherent thought:

_Antonio is in pain. Antonio is in pain and all I can do is stand here and watch._

The thought hit Lovino like a punch to the face as it fully sank in to his consciousness, finally breaking the momentary daze that had had him frozen in his tracks. Now that he could properly feel his limbs again, all the Italian wanted to do was rush to Antonio's side. The sudden urge was so strong that before he even fully realized it himself, he had taken a hasty step towards the stairs that would lead him down to the field - only to be held back by a firm hand on his shoulder.

Lovino's muscles tensed under the sudden contact as he turned around, only to find himself face to face with Francis, whose presence he had almost forgotten in his frantic state. The Frenchman's lips were pressed together in a tight line and his brows were creased in a frown that the Italian had never before seen on his face. Lovino instinctively tried to shake his hand off his shoulder, but the Frenchman only tightened his hold, not enough for it to be painful but so that the message came across nevertheless: he was not about to let go.

"Lovino." His voice was quiet but stern, the kind of tone one would use when trying to talk sense to a particularly stubborn child. "We have to wait at least until the half time." Lovino noted the absence of the heavy French accent the blond had spoken with before, but spared it no more than a fleeting thought.

Then the Italian slowly resigned to sit down, which at least rid him of the persistent hand on his shoulder. His attention was once again focused solely on the field, where a medic had made her way to Antonio and started spraying what Lovino assumed to be ice spray on his injured knee. The Spaniard himself had rolled onto his back, where he lay with one forearm covering his face and the other arm resting on the grass beside him, hand clenched into a tight fist. The stands around the field had gone ominously silent, as everyone's eyes were focused on the injured player who was being tended to.

If the people around Lovino were shocked to see the most promising player on the field injured, it was nothing compared to what the Italian was feeling. To Lovino, Antonio was so much more than just a talented soccer player, even more than just a friend or acquaintance. Seeing him lie down on the grass, obviously in a great amount of pain, tore at Lovino's heart as he resisted the urge to just run down to the field, run down to Antonio's side where he should have been, even though he knew there was nothing he could do to actually help him.

However, what horrified Lovino the most was the thought that Antonio hardly seemed like the kind of person to complain about a minor injury, he hardly seemed like the kind of person who would have others worry about him for nothing. Lovino tried to push the thought off his mind, but it kept coming back to torment him no matter how hard he tried: What if the injury was so bad that Antonio wouldn't be able to play anymore? Each time he thought about it, Lovino could feel the lump in his throat grow larger, making him struggle to keep his breathing steady. No, he shouldn't think that far ahead. Injuries were common in sports, weren't they? Even if it took some time to heal, surely it wasn't serious enough to keep him from playing in the future.

But even though Lovino tried to think rationally, tried to convince himself that only a fraction of sports injuries were really as serious as he feared, the thoughts just refused to leave him alone. He couldn't even begin imagine Antonio without his passion for soccer. It was an essential part of him, and essential part of what made him _Antonio_ , what gave his eyes that energetic sparkle and his voice that passionate tone whenever he mentioned the sport. If that part of Antonio died… No, Lovino couldn't even imagine it. He _wouldn't_ imagine it. He didn't _need_ to, because Antonio would be fine, Antonio would most definitely be fine, and it was stupid of Lovino to even begin to think otherwise.

That was what Lovino kept convincing himself when a dark-haired middle-aged man whom Lovino assumed to be one of the team's assistant coaches jogged to Antonio's side carrying a stretcher, while the medic – a tall woman with short-cropped blond hair – still kneeled next to the Spaniard, calmly giving him what Lovino assumed to be words of encouragement. However, Antonio remained completely unresponsive to her words, and even as the two staff members carefully lifted him onto the stretcher, he never once moved the forearm that covered his face nor made any other movement except for the rapid, unsteady rising and falling of his chest.

After what had to be the longest six minutes in Lovino's life, the referee's whistle finally pierced the air again, signalling the end of the first half of the match. The dread that had turned the Italian's insides to ice was replaced by a burning fire as he sprung to his feet and took off to the stairs, this time without being stopped by the Frenchman sitting beside him. He had barely reached the railing separating the stands from the field when he spotted Matthew among the home team players returning to their bench. He didn't even have the time to call his name to catch his attention before the blond's eyes met his, as if he'd been searching for him all along. Something about the look in his eyes made Lovino come to a halt next to the railing regardless of the restless prickling that urged his legs to keep moving.

As Lovino watched with growing urgency, Matthew turned to one of the team's assistant coaches – this time a sturdy middle aged man with a bald spot on the top of his head - and exchanged a few hasty words with him. Lovino couldn't hear what they were saying, but when Matthew turned to face him again and closed the distance between them in a few long strides, his brows were creased in a deep frown that made Lovino's blood freeze with apprehension.

"They took him to the medical school's hospital a few miles from the centre." His tone was a perfect match for the serious frown on his face and the look of deep concern in his bright blue eyes.

Lovino felt his body freeze as grasped the cold metal of the railing in front of him, barely conscious of the movements of his own hands.

_Antonio has been taken to the hospital?_

_But doesn't that mean that… that it really is that serious?_

_It is that serious after all, isn't it?_

_Oh no, no, no…_

Lovino's knuckles turned white as he grasped the railing in front of him like it was his lifeline. Who knows, maybe his knees would have simply given out if his hands hadn't been securely clutched around the rod of solid metal. And yet the Italian barely felt the coldness of the metal, he barely realized the fact that if he'd now try to move, he would most likely just topple over due to the sudden weakness of his limbs. No, he was too overwhelmed to even fully realize any of those things, including the blond boy who was still eyeing him with concern, concern not only for Antonio but the Italian himself as well.

All he could think of was Antonio. All he could think of was the knowledge that Antonio was hurt and alone and that he had been taken to the hospital. Lovino _needed_ to go there, he _needed_ to see him and make sure he was okay. But what if he wasn't okay? He had been taken to the hospital, after all. No, Lovino couldn't think about that possibility. Antonio _had_ to be okay, and Lovino _had_ to see him.

Lovino finally tore his hands off the railing and turned towards the exit, the only thought in his mind that _he had to get to Antonio now._ However, it was again a firm hand on his shoulder that made him stop in his tracks after only a couple of hasty steps. The Italian felt every muscle in his body tense under the sudden contact as he turned on his heels to face the owner of the hand that was still grasping his shoulder with calm persistence. However, Francis made no sign he even noticed the furious glare he was being fixed with, but instead he simply spoke in that same, quiet tone he'd used earlier to tell Lovino to wait for the half time:

"Follow me, my girlfriend will drive you to the hospital."

**xxx**

Antonio stared unblinkingly at the wall opposite to his bed. Like pretty much everything else in the room, it was white – too white, the kind of unnaturally bright shade of spotless white that would've normally made Antonio feel slightly uncomfortable. Even the door leading out of the room and into the corridor was the same shade of white, much like the coat of the doctor who had exited the room barely a few minutes ago. Or hours. Antonio wasn't sure, or then he just really didn't care. Neither did he care about the combination of white surfaces and the smell of antiseptic that made the room feel unnaturally sterile in the way that had always tended to make his skin tingle with discomfort.

No, Antonio didn't really care about any of those things. He didn't really seem to care about anything at all.

However, that had hardly been the case barely a few minutes ago - if he decided to think of them as minutes and not hours. Just a few minutes ago, he had been as far from his current state of dizzying numbness as he could've possible got: He had been in a state of frantic, fear-driven panic that he'd never experienced before, the kind of panic that seems to steal all the air from your lungs, leaving you struggling to breathe, incapable of forming coherent words, let alone sentences. He had felt like the spotlessly white walls around him were about to crash down on him at any moment and bury him in a crushing pile of rubble.

That had been before the doctor, who had sat in the chair next to his bed with his hands clasped together in his lap, had fixed him with that long, contemplating look that had seemed to want to avoid his eyes more than actually meet them. Without averting his eyes regardless of the seemingly growing urge to do so, he had finally spoken the words in a steady, low voice that was hardly loud but nevertheless seemed to pierce through Antonio's consciousness like a thousand deadly bullets.

_We will have to wait until after the surgery, when you start a rehab program that gives you the best possible chances of recovery. However, for now - given how serious the meniscal tear is - we cannot say for certain when you will be able to resume your normal practice routine, or if you can return to competitive sports at all._

… _if you can return to competitive sports at all._

Those words continued to echo in Antonio's mind as he stared blankly at the wall in front of him, only distinctly aware of the sound of footsteps that occasionally passed his door, then faded into momentary silence again.

… _if you can return to competitive sports at all._

Each time Antonio tried to imagine what his life would be like without soccer, his mind went as blank as the white walls around him. Blankness. Numbing, paralysing blankness that had turned his earlier panic into nothing but a blurry haze, an overwhelming sense of emptiness that replaced the frantic mess of thoughts that had filled his mind just minutes ago. Now his mind seemed capable of forming only a single sensible conclusion that hit his numb consciousness like the crushing weight of a giant building collapsing on top of him and burying him alive.

Without soccer, all there was was emptiness.

For as long as Antonio could remember, his life had always revolved around soccer. Whatever change had taken place in his life, one thing had always remained constant and unaffected, like a solid rock in the middle of a stormy sea: his passion for soccer, the sport that had inspired him, given him a purpose and offered him the chance to follow his dream. And that dream didn't only lie at the end of the path, but it was the path itself, the path of finding his limits and surpassing them, savouring the present while always seeking to move forward.

What would happen to Antonio if that path was suddenly blocked, if moving forward was no longer possible?

 _He didn't know._ And that was what frightened him the most, what made him feel like the sole rock breaking the churning surface of the stormy sea was quickly crumbling, leaving him drowning in the deep, raging waters even in the silence and spotlessness of his current surroundings. Antonio had never been so lost, _so_ _utterly lost,_ in his whole life. It was too much for him, too much for his mind to fully even comprehend. Or maybe it was just his mind's way to protect him, protect him from shattering, irreversibly crumbling to pieces under the situation that surely couldn't be real, surely had to be just a moment of insanity, a nightmare that he could wake up from and find his life to be still intact and not torn apart by the hungry, raving sea that sought only destruction, _his_ destruction.

Antonio didn't know how long he would've remained sitting there, staring at the wall before him without really even seeing it, if not for the sound of multiple footsteps stopping just outside the door to his room. First, he didn't even fully realize that instead of just passing by like the countless footsteps he'd heard before, they had actually stopped. No, he only realized it when he heard the sound of the door handle being pressed down; a sound that managed to break his daze by its unexpectedness, even if just a little.

However, the last remnants of that daze wore off the instant he saw the person stepping through the doorway in the white-coated doctor's trail: Lovino was wearing a pair of jeans and a red t-shirt with his favourite denim jacket covering his arms and shoulders. A few strands of silky auburn hair hung on his face, and that one defiant curl protruded from the side of his head, refusing to lie flat like the rest of its kind. That much about the Italian's appearance had remained unchanged, yet the sight of him made Antonio's breath catch in his throat and a lead weigh settle in his stomach.

Lovino's warm olive skin had lost its vivacity, like he'd been depraved of sunlight for months. His posture was oddly tense, his arms hanging on his sides and his fingers bent as if he'd been in the middle of clenching them into fists but frozen half-way through. His lips, which looked unusually chapped as if he'd been chewing on them, were slightly parted, but his jaw was clenched and the tendons in his neck strained. However, what really caught Antonio's attention was his eyes, which were wide in a mixture of shock and horror that Antonio had never before seen in them.

Antonio barely noticed the doctor who silently closed the white door behind him as he left the room, leaving the two boys alone. His eyes were glued only on Lovino, who was still standing in his post before the door like a statue, his wide amber eyes filled not only with shock but also something even more heart-breaking, a look of fear and helplessness and _pain._ A crushing sense of pain made Antonio finally drop his gaze from the Italian, unable to witness the look of anguish in his eyes. The weight in his stomach grew heavier as he fixed his unseeing gaze at the white blankets that covered his legs.

_This is not right. This is not right. It's because of me that Lovino is in pain._

Antonio clenched his fists as he felt the lump in his throat grow painfully large. This was no nightmare, for it no longer held the tiniest bit of that haziness, of that earlier sense of unreality. No, there was no way a nightmare could pierce his heart with that kind of pain, that kind of white-hot, burning pain that seemed to reach every level of his being without the tiniest hint of mercy. No, only reality was capable of that kind of mercilessness, Antonio was sure of it, and the worst part was that there was no waking up from reality. Even as his life was crumbling into sand and trickling between his fingers along with his heart, there was no way for him to wake up.

Antonio wasn't sure when it was that his shoulders started to tremble under the overwhelming emotions that had finally broken through his momentary numbness. He wasn't sure when it happened, but at some point he noticed that his shoulders, along with the rest of his body, were trembling, even as he clenched his fists in a wasted attempt to regain control over himself. He breathed in shaky breaths, letting his chin drop to his chest as he closed his eyes and tried to fight the tears that he knew were about to fall, even though he knew it was a fight he would sooner or later lose.

Did he feel embarrassed for letting Lovino see him like that? For letting Lovino witness his weakness and pitifulness so shamelessly?

No, at that moment, he didn't really care. It was the truth, after all: He _was_ scared. He was utterly scared and lost and _hurting,_ both physically and emotionally, although he hardly cared about the dull throbbing in his injured knee that the pain relievers had failed to completely remove. No, the physical pain was nothing compared to the overwhelming storm of emotions that tried to pull him apart from the inside, the combination of his fear for himself and the pain of seeing Lovino, _the one he loved_ , suffer because of _him._ He wanted to protect Lovino, he wanted to make him happy like he did to Antonio, and yet it was because of Antonio that he was in pain.

 _This is so wrong. So, so_ wrong.

Antonio never saw Lovino move from his spot in front of the door, but he must have eventually done so for at some point the Spaniard felt a hesitant hand land on his shoulder. Even through the tremors that shook his own body, Antonio could feel the trembling of the slim fingers that grasped his shoulder, fumbling on his hospital gown as if to make sure that Antonio really was there. It took him a few seconds, but soon the Italian's grip became firmer, until the trembling of his fingers stopped altogether. Antonio tried to steady his breathing, but there was nothing he could do about the tears that escaped his closed eyes and streamed down his cheeks until they fell on his lap or reached his mouth, their saltiness stinging his lips that he hadn't even noticed were so dry.

The grip on his shoulder grew tighter, and Antonio was distinctly aware of the sound of metal scraping the tile floor, which he later on realized was the sound of a chair being pulled closer to the bed. Then he felt another arm being wrapped around his neck and a head of silky hair pressing against his chin. He felt a gust of warm breath against his chest as the hand finally let go of his shoulder just to firmly grasp the fabric on his back, enveloping him in a desperate embrace that, regardless of its tightness, somehow made it easier for Antonio to breathe. Just enough for him to feel less like was suffocating, even though he still couldn't help the breathless sobs that had begun to escape his lips at some unknown point.

Antonio was still lost, he was still utterly shaken and afraid of the shadow of uncertainty that had suddenly fallen between him and his dream; that much hadn't changed. However, Antonio thought as he slowly wrapped his own arms around the comfortingly familiar shape of Lovino's back, he was no longer alone. He had Lovino, the one whose presence never failed to brighten his day, not even when the sky seemed to fall on top of him, crushing him between the stormy sea and the raging winds. Lovino's presence was like the warm, inviting light of a beacon, a small but persistent light that reached him even through the raging storm, urging him to hang on, to follow that tiny glimmer of hope that was the only thing that could save him from drowning in the deep, black waters below.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, I'm currently visiting my family that I don't get to see so often since I'm studying in an other country, so I haven't had as much time to write as usual. The next chapter will probably be a little late, too, since I just finished writing this one, so I apologize for that already in advance. Thank you so much to everyone who's kept reading my story, please forgive me for the late updates!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Antonio had never been one to have problems with sleeping. It might have had something to do with how busy he always was, but whenever he got the chance to lie down in his bed, he usually fell asleep within seconds. It was precisely because of how easy it had been for him that he had always taken it for granted, and it was only upon losing his ability that he truly began to appreciate the ease with which he had been able to fall asleep just by closing his eyes.

The first night after the surgery, when Antonio had been under the lingering effects of the anesthesia, he had managed a few hours of restless sleep only to be woken up by the throbbing ache in his operated knee and the cold sweat covering his body. After that, while the intense pain had slowly been reduced to a dull ache that mostly just served as a reminder of the injury, even those few hours had become something Antonio struggled to manage.

It wasn't that he didn't have the time to sleep – quite the opposite, actually – but it seemed like no matter how long he lay in bed, keeping his eyes dutifully closed while trying to relax his muscles and slow down his breathing, it just didn't do him any good. He could only lie on his back, and staying in that one position for hours made him feel incredibly uncomfortable, especially since he had to wear a brace on his injured knee even when he went to bed. But even worse than the physical discomfort of remaining in one position for too long was the sense of being trapped, being unable to do anything but wait and hope that he could just fall to the sweet oblivion of sleep while the minutes ticked by way too slowly, so much unlike during all those nights he'd spent trying to finish a school project that was due the next day.

Part the reason he failed to fall asleep could have actually been the trying: Each time Antonio felt like he was on the verge of drifting off, he was overcome by a sudden sense of pressure that came from the desperate need to fall asleep, the desperate need to escape the long hours of lying trapped in his bed looming ahead of him. The feeling was strong enough to send his heart racing in his chest, making all his efforts of relaxing his body and slowing down his breathing utterly useless. It was in those moments that Antonio considered getting out of bed and abandoning his efforts altogether, but after one attempt at limping to his desk and opening his laptop only to find himself too tired to properly put his mind to any of his assignments he had no choice but to discard that idea.

He had never before had so much free time in his hands, and it didn't take him long to decide that he did not enjoy it. The more time he had, the more he had to listen to the nagging voices at the back of his mind, the voices that told him just how hopeless of a situation he really was in. No matter how hard he tried to push those voices off his mind, they just kept coming back to torment him, trying to snuff out the flickering flame of hope he was desperately clinging onto. He knew that if he let that flame die out, he would surely be engulfed by the darkness that lurked inside of him, feeding off his fear and insecurity and despair while waiting for its chance to devour him for good.

That darkness was Antonio's only companion when he lay in bed in the early hours of morning, listening to the eerie silence of the sleeping dormitory and wondering how many people besides him were still awake in the building. He had never thought it could be that quiet in his flat, and he found the lack of nearly any sound to be outright unnerving. It had never been that quiet in his home village in Spain, where even the night was filled with the noise of the old electric fan in his room, or the occasional sounds made by night animals wafting through the mosquito nets covering the open windows.

Whenever his thoughts drifted to his home and family, he felt a fresh pang of guilt hit his sleep-depraved consciousness with enough strength to steal the air from his lungs. Each time that happened, Antonio would feel an unusually strong sense of anger, both at himself and the unfairness of the world. He had always been the kind of person who believed that it was the amount of effort you put into something that first and foremost determined how far you could go. He had acknowledged the fact that some people had it easier from the start than others, but he had still believed that as long as he worked hard, he could catch up to anyone and clear any obstacle that stood in his way.

Now, however, he wasn't so sure anymore. What if the obstacle that now loomed in front of him like an enormous boulder was too much for him to overcome?

No, there had to be a way. There had to be some way for him to get past that boulder and reclaim his life, prove that anything was possible if he just put enough effort into it. He wouldn't allow himself to give up, to surrender that fading flame of hope to the hungry void of darkness and end up a as failure, both to himself and everyone he cared about.

No, he couldn't allow that to happen. He couldn't end up like his father, who had lost his job and left with no concern for his wife or small son who had depended entirely on his ability to provide for them. Where he had gone, neither Antonio nor his mother knew for they hadn't heard a word from him after that day, but they suspected he had moved to a bigger town in hope of finding new employment and earning higher wages – wages that he no longer would have to share with anyone.

At that time, Antonio had been too young to fully understand what had happened, but he had nevertheless noticed how his mother was rarely at home anymore, working in whatever job she could find in a desperate attempt to earn enough money to provide for herself and her son. Each time young Antonio had looked at his mother's prematurely aged face and tired eyes that nevertheless seemed to twinkle with affection whenever she laid them on her son, he had silently resolved to one day fix the mess his father had left them in, to finally make things right with his own relentless efforts.

And Antonio had got so far. He had got way too far to give up now, no matter what obstacle was thrown in his way. He knew that, and yet the nagging voices in the far corners of his mind still refused to leave him alone.

Regardless of getting barely any sleep, Antonio tried to busy himself as much as he could during the week after his surgery, hoping that returning to his normal daily schedule would give him at least a little peace of mind and work as a distraction from his own thoughts. While he had had to take leave from his part-time job which required moving around and carrying things, he attended all his classes and went to watch his team's field practice every afternoon, even though watching his team from the sidelines instead of being on the field himself mostly just managed to make him feel even worse about his situation.

Regardless of his attempts to conceal his distress, the poorly hidden looks of pity Antonio received both during his classes and from his own teammates told him he wasn't doing a very good job at it. As much as he wished people didn't look at him that way, for it made it impossible for him to pretend that everything was back to normal even for a fleeting moment, he couldn't really blame them after he checked his reflection in the mirror: dark circles had appeared under his eyes and his normally tan skin had faded into a sickly greyish shade that reminded him more of a zombie than an actual living person.

While Antonio did his best to ignore the pitying looks, he quickly formed a habit of trying to avoid spending time with anyone outside of his classes or the practices he still went to watch, instead secluding himself in his own room where even Francis wouldn't bother him. He knew it wasn't probably the healthiest course of action, nor was it fair for the people who were sincerely worried about him and ended up being pushed away because of Antonio's own troubled mind, and yet he felt like their concern for him was only adding up to the bundle of anxiety and distress that was growing in his chest like a hungry void trying to devour him from the inside.

However, even though he felt like it was easier to avoid the people around him than to face them, it also made him properly realize his own selfishness for the first time in his life. And this time he had no excuse for his selfishness, not like when he'd convinced himself that leaving his mother to attend a university in the States hadn't been only for his own sake, but for his mother's sake as well: he would finally fulfill his resolution of removing her economic struggles, and he would do so by doing what he was best at: playing soccer.

Back then, it had all seemed so simple. Sure, it had been an enormous step for a boy from a poor village to fly to the States alone to attend a prestigious university, but after making that one big, life-changing decision he had no longer had to ask himself what he should do next: he would practice, try to achieve decent grades from his courses, work at a part-time job to earn enough money for food and other necessities as well as plane tickets to fly home once a year, use the time he was left with for sleeping and repeat the same routine the next day. That was all there had been to it.

But now that busy but familiar routine had suddenly been taken away from him, along with the confidence in his own future and who he was.

It was utterly terrifying to Antonio to imagine his life without soccer, something that had always been such an essential part of his very character that even the idea of its absence left him at a complete loss. If he really were to be stripped of that, he would surely be reduced to nothing more than an empty shell, only the shadow of a person whose life had once had a clear purpose and meaning.

_And what would a shadow like that be good for?_

_Nothing._

The prospect of a promising career as a soccer player would not be all that would wither and die away, but it would be everything else in his life as well. That idea stung at Antonio's heart like a fresh wound, painful enough to subdue even the raging void of hopelessness in his chest, if just for a little while.

Out of all the people Antonio had pushed away during the past week, Lovino had been the hardest to avoid. It wasn't just because he was the most persistent one, but even more because Antonio missed him like crazy, _needed_ his comforting presence more than probably ever before. And yet he couldn't face him with the way he was, he couldn't show him the wreck of a person he had been reduced to. No, the mere idea of Lovino giving him that pitying look everyone around him naturally seemed to adopt, or even worse, of Lovino looking at him with distaste for the undignified mess he had become, was too much for Antonio to bear. He knew that if he ever saw Lovino look at him like that, he would surely lose the little hope he had left and fail in his struggles to return his life to the right track.

Antonio was completely aware of his own selfishness and cowardice, and yet the risk was too much for him to take, it was heavier than his own selfish wants and needs or even his conscience, which prickled painfully each time he thought of the look of pain and worry he'd seen in Lovino's eyes on the day of his injury. That was one of the things Antonio tried very hard not to think about, instead convincing himself that he was doing Lovino a favor as well, that dragging the Italian into his mess would only cause them both unnecessary pain.

However, what proved to be even worse than the feelings of guilt were the memories that kept surfacing in his mind, the memories of the times when everything had still been as close to perfect as it could get. It was especially during the early hours before dawn when Antonio lay sleepless in his bed that he remembered the blissful feeling of Lovino's warm lips on his own, or the way his slim body fit so perfectly in his arms, or the softness of his auburn locks under his fingers. During those moments, the Spaniard wanted nothing more than to just experience those wonderful sensations once more in reality, instead of just reliving them in his memories.

Even though the despair with which Antonio longed for Lovino tore at his heart like a hungry beast, it also somehow managed to bring a sense of clarity into the disarray of his thoughts: It was like a guiding light that he could follow through the overwhelming darkness, a light that at least pointed him to the right direction, even if he still had to rely on his own strength to move forward. Even if the situation seemed hopeless for the time being, Antonio knew that he would have to keep following that light, he would have to keep moving forward, for that was the only way of gaining back what he had lost, the only way of gaining back what most mattered to him.

**xxx**

The plastic surface of the seat was sticky from the humid air as Antonio laid his hand on it, pushing himself up on his one good foot while grabbing his crutches from where they were leaning against the seat next to him. He stopped for a few seconds after finding his balance, his eyes following the group of his teammates that was heading out from the field while chattering casually. The sight was so normal and familiar that it prickled at the Spaniard's heart painfully enough to make him drop his look, even though he knew it to be just another mistake: it didn't take more than a short glance at his braced leg and crutches to tell that no, for Antonio, things couldn't have been farther from normal and familiar.

That had been the case for exactly one week now, one week of going to watch his team's field practices and pretending that everything was back to normal whenever he could, even though he knew he was only fooling himself. Seeing his teammates practice as normal while all he could do was watch from the sidelines, seeing them exchange casual remarks among each other while adopting that same look of pity and worry whenever they even glanced at Antonio, was making Antonio feel like he was slowly but surely getting left behind, losing his place as a part of the team.

That was probably one of the main reasons why the Spaniard was so determined to keep going to watch their practices, even if it wasn't completely necessary now that he wasn't going to be playing for a while: He feared with an increasing sense of alarm that if he now let himself stay behind, it might not be only temporary, but he might never be able to regain his position as a part of the team. Even though it had been painful for him to watch those practices while sitting on the bench, burning with the need to join them himself while knowing that it was impossible now that his right leg was nothing like the functional limb it had once been, he had come there every day simply because not doing so would have almost felt like giving up.

Now, however, that choice seemed to be no longer his to make.

It had been right after the end of the practice that Antonio had seen the team's main coach hold Alfred and Matthew behind while the other players went to the locker room to grab their things. Antonio had been too far away to hear what they were saying, but after a short, rather grim-looking exchange with the two boys, the coach had finally made his way to where Antonio was sitting on the bench, taking a seat next to him and fixing him with a long look that looked almost hesitant in a way that made Antonio wait with a freezing sense of apprehension what he was about to say.

" _Antonio… I think it might be better for you to concentrate on resting rather than coming to watch practice for now."_

The coach's words echoed in Antonio's mind as he tightened his grip on his crutches. As much as he had tried not to show it, those words, even though spoken in a voice that was careful and hardly loud, had hit him like a slap to the face, knocking him over when he had already been struggling so hard to keep standing. It was like the bridge leading back to his earlier life was crumbling faster and faster, making him feel more desperate each time a new chunk came off and fell into the endless dark void that loomed below, impatiently waiting for the day Antonio would finally have to give in to its pull.

"Antonio?" Matthew's voice sounded from behind, waking the Spaniard from his anxious thoughts. His tone held the same carefulness that everyone now seemed to assume when they addressed Antonio, like they feared they might break him if they talked too loudly or suddenly.

Antonio waited for Matthew and Alfred to reach the bench, after which they left the field together in a pace that was slow enough for the Spaniard to keep up with his crutches. They walked the first few minutes in silence, Antonio and Matthew focusing on the path before them while Alfred grabbed a recovery drink from his sports bag and started fumbling with the straw. It seemed like the aura of despondency and anxiety that without a doubt radiated from the Spaniard was strong enough for even the American to sense, for he showed no intention to ask him to come watch one of his favorite superhero movies in their flat.

"I'm sorry, Antonio", Matthew started hesitantly, finally breaking the heavy silence that had settled between them. He wasn't fully facing the Spaniard as he spoke, and his right hand fumbled uncertainly with the leash of his sports bag before promptly lifting to push up his glasses. "I couldn't really disagree with him."

The sinking weight in Antonio's stomach seemed to get heavier at the Canadian's words. After the apprehension he'd felt when he'd seen his coach talk with the team's captain and vice-captain, who also happened to be his closest friends on the team, he had been suspecting they had had something to do with what the coach had told him. However, it still stung him to hear it directly from Matthew, who had always been someone he could turn to, someone he'd thought he could trust. Even though he knew that they were just thinking about his well-being, he couldn't help but to feel like they were giving up on him, cutting off his last connection to his life as a member of the soccer team.

On the Spaniard's other side, Alfred was quietly sucking his chocolate flavored recovery drink through a straw, his brow creased in a thoughtful frown that didn't quite look right on his face. An uncomfortable silence hung over the three of them like the humid air that stuck to Antonio's skin and made his hands slippery as he tried to maintain his grip on his crutches. It felt awkward and unnatural, for it was normally never quiet for many seconds at a time whenever Alfred was around, and the silences that occasionally fell between Antonio and Matthew had always been pleasant and companionable.

"It's okay, I get it", Antonio finally said without lifting his eyes from the path in front of him, more to avoid looking at his friends, whose eyes he could feel shift to him as he spoke, than to actually watch his step. He might not have felt okay at all, but he couldn't deny that Matthew and his coach did have a point. The last thing he wanted to do was to lash out on his friends, even if their worry was making him feel even more like a useless burden.

From the corner of his eye, Antonio saw Matthew nod uncertainly. "If you say so."

Five minutes later, Antonio was finally standing in front of his flat door, catching his breath as he stuck one of his sweaty hands in his pocket to find his key. The amount of effort it took him to just walk from the soccer field to the dormitories was just another thing to make him feel like his life had been turned into a bad joke: It wasn't enough that he couldn't play soccer, but his normally capable body struggled to carry out even the most simple form of physical activity, all because his right knee refused to work properly.

The Spaniard closed his fist around the key and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The strands of hair that stuck to his sweaty skin were wet from the rain that had started to fall during his walk to the dormitory, much like the thin polyester t-shirt he was wearing. He felt utterly tattered and worn out, like all the remaining energy in his body and mind had been washed away by the rain. Even the initial pang of hurt from his conversations with his coach and teammates had been reduced to a dull ache in his chest, an ache that he knew would once again turn into a wave of despair when the momentary numbness eventually wore off.

With that rather depressing thought in his mind, Antonio finally pushed the key in the keyhole and pressed down the handle, ready to shut himself in his room where he would at least be free of the awkward atmosphere that now always seemed to fall between him and his friends.

However, that thought vanished into thin air the moment he pushed open the door and glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Sitting at the kitchen table with his back turned to Antonio was Francis, whom the Spaniard easily recognized from his wavy blond hair and purple satin shirt. However, it was the boy sitting opposite from the Frenchman that really caught Antonio's attention, making him freeze in his tracks in the middle of closing the door behind him: It was no one else but Lovino, the person who had lingered at the back of Antonio's mind every minute he'd been awake, making his heart sting with longing and guilt alike.

The Spaniard barely noticed when Francis elegantly stood up from his chair and walked past Antonio, only stopping briefly to give his shoulder a light squeeze before stepping through the doorway and carefully closing the door behind him. No, all of Antonio's attention was focused on the Italian, who hadn't moved an inch from his chair behind the kitchen table.

Just seeing Lovino in front of him, concrete and real instead of just an image created by his own mind, made every inch of Antonio's being burn with the need to touch him, the need to make sure he really wasn't going to fade away like all those lingering images eventually did. Somehow being in the same room with the Italian, close enough to reach him with only a couple of steps even with his right leg rendered useless, only made Antonio miss him more desperately than ever. And yet he was utterly terrified at the same time, for he knew that if his fear now came true, if his last ray of light was to be snatched away from him, his will would surely crumble for good and he would succumb to the darkness forever.

Antonio was so overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions that were trying to tear apart his mind that his body had frozen in place, his eyes locked on the auburn-haired boy in front of him like he would disappear into thin air if the Spaniard let him out of his sight even for a second. It was only when the Italian slowly stood up from his chair and broke the stretching silence that Antonio was finally woken up from his momentary daze.

"Why have you been avoiding me all week?" Lovino demanded with his hands crossed over his chest, fixing Antonio with an intense stare that seemed to pierce all the way into his soul.

Antonio swallowed, suddenly finding it hard to properly face the person he had been aching to see for what had without a doubt been the longest week in his life. Even though Lovino's voice had mostly been angry and accusing, the Spaniard hadn't missed the undertone of hurt that was definitely there, even if the Italian was trying his best to hide it. It made Antonio's heart sink with guilt and shame, reminding him of just how cowardly he really was for running away without any explanation, too afraid of being abandoned to show his weakness to Lovino.

"I didn't want you to see me like this", he finally admitted before stealing a careful glance at Lovino's direction.

A part of the Spaniard's mind was yelling at him to flee in front of the risk that was simply too terrifying to be taken, yelling at him to protect the last bit of hope he was still clinging onto in his heart with the despair of a drowning man grasping a piece of wood barely enough to keep him afloat. However, another even more resolute part of his mind was telling him that it was already too late, that he had come to the end of his flight and now he would just have to accept whatever fate was imposed upon him, even if it were to be his destruction.

"Like what?" the Italian asked sharply, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows as he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Antonio, what are you talking about?"

Antonio swallowed again, trying unsuccessfully to get rid of the lump that had quickly formed in his throat. He knew he owed Lovino an explanation – a truthful explanation, for he knew it would only hurt more if he tried to tell him something else than the truth, and yet he couldn't find the right words, couldn't even seem to find his voice, which seemed to have abandoned him after the only sentence he'd managed to let out so far. After multiple seconds that seemed to stretch for forever under the Italian's intense stare, Antonio finally took a deep breath and forced himself to speak.

"Lately I've been feeling like… like I'm not sure if I can do this. I've been thinking what will happen if… if I don't get well enough and…" The words kept getting stuck in Antonio's throat, coming out as inconsistent rambling. However, he thought, he was nevertheless speaking them, he was finally doing what he would have done days ago if only he had found the courage.

"Antonio", Lovino interrupted the Spaniard just as he struggled to finish his last sentence. His tone was hard and determined, but Antonio thought he could hear an undertone of fear that the Italian hadn't completely managed to hide. "Stop it."

Antonio swallowed, glancing at Lovino while he still found it hard to properly meet his eyes. "But…"

"No. You're not giving up. I'm not going to let you do that."

"But if I can't do it, if it's not possible… I thought… I understand if you don't want to be with me anymore."

A couple of seconds passed in complete silence, during which Antonio's whole body seemed to freeze in a sense of overwhelming apprehension. He hadn't planned to bring that up so suddenly, but somehow the words had escaped his lips like the pressure from keeping the fear inside had grown too high and finally needed a way to be relieved. When seconds ticked away and Lovino still hadn't said anything or moved from his spot next to the kitchen table, Antonio carefully raised his look from the floor, only to find Lovino staring at him with an oddly blank expression, eyes wide from what had to be incredulousness.

As Antonio faced him, Lovino finally blinked his eyes for what had to be the first time since the Spaniard had spoken. Then he slowly shook his head, and this time there was no mistaking the look of incredulousness that had replaced his earlier frown.

"You really are a complete idiot."

"Huh?" Whatever Antonio had been expecting Lovino to say, he hadn't been prepared to that.

"I said that you are a complete, fucking idiot", Lovino repeated, emphasizing each word as he spoke it, the angry frown quickly reappearing on his momentarily blank face. "How can you even come up with something that idiotic?" he demanded, crossing his arms once again as he kept frowning at Antonio with enough intensity to make him shift with discomfort.

"But I thought that-"

"You thought that I don't want you to give up because I wouldn't want to be with you anymore if you did?" The frown on Lovino's face deepened as he spoke, his sharp words cutting the Spaniard's heart like knives while his piercing eyes bore straight into his soul.

Antonio swallowed, resisting the urge to escape the intense glare he was being fixed with until it finally became too much for him. He resignedly let his gaze drop to the floor, struggling to force the single honest word out of his dry mouth.

"Yes."

Lovino released his grip on the edge of the table, his hand visibly trembling before he slowly clenched it into a tight fist. He stepped away from the table, hesitantly at first, but growing more confident as he straightened himself properly and took a few much more determined steps towards Antonio, his narrowed eyes closely fixed at the Spaniard in a look that was both unnerving and captivating in its fierceness.

"Then you leave me no choice."

Before Antonio even properly had time to wonder what Lovino meant by that, it was the second time during their encounter that the Italian did something completely unexpected. With only a few quick strides he closed the remaining distance between the two of them, stopping only when he stood right in front of Antonio only to briskly thrust his hand forward and grab the front of the Spaniard's shirt. Then, without giving Antonio any time to try to prepare himself for what was about to happen, Lovino roughly pulled him down and pressed their lips together. The kiss itself was short, but it held so much passion that Antonio was nevertheless short of breath by the time the Italian pulled away. However, the remaining air was knocked out from his lungs only seconds after by the breathless words spoken by Lovino in a voice thick with emotion.

"I love you, Antonio."

The Italian was close enough for Antonio to feel his breath on his face as he spoke, to distinguish each of the beautifully curved eyelashes that framed his amber eyes as they met the Spaniard's look without a tiniest bit of hesitation. All Antonio could do was stare back into those bright, unwavering eyes as he struggled to remember how to breathe now that part of the heavy weight crushing his chest was suddenly being lifted away. His lips still tingled from the kiss, which had felt a thousand times better than any of the memories that had kept replaying themselves in his mind during the past week.

"You might be an idiot, but I still love you", Lovino muttered, his voice barely more than a low whisper as he once more tightened his hold on the front of Antonio's shirt. "That's why I'm not going to let you give up on something that's so important to you. So don't you dare say something that idiotic again."

With that, the Italian pulled him down for another kiss, which the Spaniard gladly accepted, the only thought in his mind how _right_ it felt to feel Lovino so close to himself again, as if they'd never been separated in the first place. To not only feel him but also taste him and hear him in such a solid and real way was pure bliss to Antonio, who was momentary relieved from all his pain and exhaustion and fear, captured in that one blissful moment that he never wanted to end.

It was only when they eventually had to break apart for air that Antonio finally opened his eyes, feeling an overwhelming rush of affection hit him as he took in the sight displayed right before him: The Italian's olive skin was flushed in a shade of light pink, his lips were slightly parted as he caught his breath, and his smooth brow held no traces of its earlier deep frown. Under his dark eyelashes his eyes were half closed and still fixed at Antonio's lips, while his hands had moved from the Spaniard's shirt to wrap themselves around his neck, where they seemed to be in no hurry to leave. Everything about him told Antonio that he had longed for the Spaniard just as much as the Spaniard had longed for him, which filled his chest with affection and guilt alike.

"I'm sorry, Lovino", he found himself whispering against the Italian's lips before placing a soft kiss on the delicate tip of his nose, "I promise I won't do it again." He placed another chaste kiss on his lips before touching their foreheads together and closing his eyes again as he finally spoke the words that he meant with every fiber of his being. "I love you too."


	10. Chapter 10

The last traces of summer seemed to have finally worn off as the weather stayed rainy through the last week of October. The dark clouds that had gathered in the sky at some point during the previous week never quite seemed to clear away, determined to block any rays of sunlight that could’ve possibly dried the puddles of water that had gathered on the roads and illuminated the scenery, leaving the campus area and the town surrounding it in a constant chilly gloom that had managed to drive the majority of the population to the comfort of their homes.

However, excluding the instances when he had to trudge through the soaked streets to get to his classes or to stack up on groceries, fighting the cold wind that blew his hair in his eyes and threatened to pluck his umbrella from his hands, the weather hardly posed a problem to Lovino. He had never been an outdoors person in the first place, and the sound of the rain hitting the windows and the occasional rumble of thunder only added to the coziness of curling up on Antonio’s bed to watch movies while enjoying the warmth provided by a thick blanket and the Spaniard’s body heat next to him.

That’s how Lovino and Antonio had started to spend their evenings after the previous Saturday, when Lovino had finally forced the Spaniard to face him after a whole week of evasive messages and declined phone calls. At first, Lovino had been taken aback by how strong the pain he felt for Antonio’s sake was compared to the sting of hurt from being ignored, of not having enough of the Spaniard’s trust to be granted a place by his side. Sure, those selfish feelings had been there as well, but they were something Lovino had been dealing with his whole life, something he had learnt to bear with, even if it did still hurt.

However, the overwhelming sense of worry for someone he deeply cared about was different. It was a feeling Lovino had never before experienced like that, strong enough to drown out any other thought or emotion in his mind, strong enough to make him feel like he would go crazy if he didn’t _do something_ about it, make sure Antonio was okay even if it meant breaking down his door to get to him. After almost a week of waiting for Antonio to finally come out from his flat and talk to him out of his free will, the Italian had resorted to his plan B.

He’d walked up to the Spaniard’s flat and rung the doorbell, only to find himself face to face with Francis, the crazy Frenchman whose girlfriend had given him a ride to the hospital on the day of Antonio’s injury. The Italian had barely had time to say that he was there to see Antonio before the blond had pulled him in through the doorway and sat him at the kitchen table, promptly taking a seat himself. Lovino had irritably wondered how Francis managed to make even a troubled frown look so elegant, but the look in his eyes had left the Italian with no doubt about the sincerity of the Frenchman’s worry for his roommate.

Francis had been convinced that only ‘true _l’amour_ ’ could save Antonio, and even though Lovino found the way he’d put it sickeningly cheesy, they had nevertheless agreed on one thing: Lovino would have to get the Spaniard out of his withdrawal, and to do that he would have to properly face him. When Antonio had then returned from watching his team’s field practice, Francis had given the Italian what was probably his idea of a look of encouragement before quickly leaving the flat, leaving Lovino alone with the Spaniard.

It had taken all Lovino’s willpower to keep himself from crumbling under the shattered look in Antonio’s normally so vibrant eyes as he’d fixed them at the Italian from the doorway, where he stood drenched by the rain. When Lovino had then finally heard the reason as to why he had been avoiding him all week, he had done something he still had trouble believing he’d actually pulled off: He’d marched up to the Spaniard, grabbed his shirt, and kissed him. He’d voiced his feelings honestly and straightforwardly without stuttering, and all he had been able to think of was the overwhelming relief he felt as he watched Antonio’s scarily empty eyes regain a hint of their usual vivacity. 

After that, while things had hardly been perfect, at least Lovino no longer had to endure the terrible feeling of helplessness from not being able to do _anything_ for Antonio’s sake. It did hurt the Italian to see the weary look that never quite seemed to leave his eyes, to hear the strain in his usually so cheerful laugh and to catch him staring into the distance with a small frown on his face, a frown that was so far from his usual carefree smile that it felt purely wrong to the Italian. However, now he could at least be there by the Spaniard’s side, make sure he didn’t have to be alone with his pain, and that alone gave Lovino a sense of purpose unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

Ever since his mother’s death, Lovino had felt like he didn’t quite belong anywhere, like he was nothing but a burden to everyone around him. He’d felt like he was only drifting through life, lacking any real passion towards anything, any hopes or aspirations for himself or his future. Now he figured that it might have been because he was afraid of getting too attached to anything, the similar way as he’d been afraid of getting too attached to another person: The prospect of failure and loss frightened him so much that he rather chose to live an empty, meaningless life than to risk experiencing the pain of losing something that mattered to him.

Now, as Lovino watched Antonio struggle to continue his life after having to refrain from doing what he was most passionate about, after getting such a blow to the career he’d been working so hard for, the Italian had started feeling more and more like a coward himself. If Antonio had never started to play soccer, never moved so far from his home country to join his current team, he would never have had to go through the pain he was in now. And yet Lovino didn’t even have to consider asking the Spaniard if he regretted all those decisions, if he wished he had never dared to pursue such an ambitious dream in the first place.

No, even if it was all because of Antonio’s passions and ambitions that he was now in pain, those passions and ambitions had made Antonio into the person he was now, the person that Lovino had grown to love from the bottom of his heart. Even when he saw the fear and uncertainty in Antonio’s eyes, the Italian knew he was too strong to give up, he knew that if anyone could recover from that kind of an injury and return to the soccer field, it would be Antonio. Lovino knew all too well what it felt like to have his live falling apart, and while it had taken years for the Italian to start properly living his life after losing his mother, he knew the Spaniard could do better.

While Lovino had been determined to not let Antonio fall into the same kind of hopelessness and emptiness that Lovino had fallen into after his mother’s death, the thing that had most caught him off guard was the confession the Spaniard had made to him the last Saturday.

_“But if I can’t do it, if it’s not possible… I thought… I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore.”_

Those words, spoken in a voice filled with fear and anxiety, kept coming back to Lovino, never ceasing to baffle him just as much as when he’d heard them for the first time: Antonio had thought that Lovino wouldn’t want to be with him if he gave up on soccer.

No matter how much Lovino thought about it, the Spaniard’s logic just didn’t seem to make any sense to him.

From the moment he’d met Antonio, the Italian had only ever thought he was perfect in every way possible, that he was way too perfect for someone like Lovino. He had struggled to understand what the Spaniard found so interesting about him, for he was hardly used to attracting such positive kind of attention from the people around him. However, even if he still couldn’t quite understand what it was that Antonio saw in him, it was all because of the Spaniard that during the past few months Lovino had felt happier than perhaps ever before.

And now Antonio thought that Lovino would toss him aside when he was hurt, toss him aside just because he’d found out that the Spaniard was only human too? Just thinking about it made Lovino want to scream ‘idiot’ right at the Spaniard’s face all over again. No, even though it hurt him to see Antonio doubt himself, to see him look so lost and uncertain in a way that was all too familiar to the Italian, it also made the Spaniard seem more realistic, more like Lovino’s equal rather than some sort of an unattainable embodiment of perfection. If anything, it only made Lovino love him even more, love him not only for his strengths but also his flaws.  

**xxx**

It was Friday, just past 6 o’clock in the evening, and Lovino was sitting at his desk, staring at his laptop screen with a thoughtful frown on his face. He had just opened the document of the literature essay he’d turned in the previous week, and for which he had just received his grade. He didn’t feel like he’d done a particularly good job or anything - in fact, he’d put in the same amount of effort as for the assignments in high school, which really wasn’t much. And yet, he though as his frown slowly got deeper, it was still there: the grade A.

How was it that even though he’d never really worked hard for anything, never really had any goal in life he would’ve strived for and thus felt motivated to do well at school, it was always an A? Even in other subjects that he had even less interest for, he’d always scored above average, no matter how little effort he put into studying. Not that he’d felt like those grades did him much good, though. His problematic character had greatly outweighed any academic talent he happened to possess when it came to how he was treated by his teachers or grandpa Roma. It was simply something that came naturally from him, and that’s why he’d never really bothered giving it all that much thought.

Now, however, witnessing Antonio’s undying passion for soccer, Lovino had started to think that maybe he should start caring about his own future as well, maybe he should try to work at least a little harder and see where it would get him. When he now thought about it, he really was tired of drifting aimlessly, just doing something because there was nothing better to do. He wanted to have some sort of a goal of his own, he wanted to stand by Antonio’s side as his equal, to have something interesting he could tell the Spaniard about his own life instead of always just looking at him with awe and admiration.

The Italian leant back in his office chair, absently pushing back the stray strand of hair that had fallen on his face. Yes, he really should start thinking about what he wanted to do in the future, for it was not like he had unlimited time for that – in fact, he would have to choose his major for his sophomore year already before Christmas break. The thought made Lovino’s stomach twist with nervousness as he shifted in his seat, resting his elbows on his desk and lightly tugging at his hair like he often did when feeling particularly anxious.

Perhaps the choice should have been obvious, for the only subject he had always received the best marks for had been literature. In fact, he even had genuine interest for reading, although that might have had something to do with how he hadn’t really had anything better to do when he was younger: When his classmates had been playing together in the school yard, he had always been the lonely kid reading a book in some corner. And even more importantly, it had been his mother who had first introduced him to the world of fictional stories. As Lovino now thought about it, that might have been the main reason as to why he had always felt most at ease with a book in his hands.

Even before Lovino had learnt how to read, his mother had always read stories to him and his brother, whether it was before going to bed or when either of them was feeling sad. She would sit down on the bed or the sofa and Lovino and Feliciano would snuggle on both sides of her as she read aloud different stories from children’s books with colorful pictures to fantasy novels when they were a little older. Feliciano would often fall asleep to her soothing voice, leaving only Lovino to silently but eagerly listen to his mother’s reading.

The memory of those times when everything had still been so easy and simple stung at Lovino’s heart, and yet he still continued to hold onto those precious memories, unable to forget about them even if it would’ve saved him a lot of pain. His mother had been the kind of person who was always curious to learn new things and explore new ideas, and even though she had been gentle and amicable, she had also liked spending time alone in peace and quiet. Even now Lovino would feel closest to his mother whenever he picked up a book, and while he obviously hadn’t inherited his mother’s friendly character, he liked to think that he shared at least some of her qualities.

Lovino raised his chin, once again focusing his eyes at his laptop screen and the front page of the essay on William Blake’s poems he’d received an A for. Yes, even though Lovino had always had to battle with all kinds of uncertainties whenever he had to make an important decision, this time he did feel unusually confident about what he wanted to do. And yet he could still feel the anxiety building up in his stomach as he thought about actually _doing_ it, as he thought about what he would actually have to do in all his future courses: even if he was relatively good at writing essays, there was more to being a literature student than that.

Whenever he thought about the next period and the public speaking course he would have to take, all his newfound determination towards studying seemed to deflate like a balloon that had been poked with a needle. If there was something Lovino was bad at, it was dealing with large crowds of people whose attention was focused solely on him. And that was exactly what he would have to face during the next period, more specifically sometime in early December, when he would have to give a presentation in front of the entire class which would consist of approximately 50 students and the professor.

That sort of assignments were exactly what he had been dreading when he’d entered the college, and even though he’d been lucky to not have to give any presentations during his first period courses, his luck seemed to be quickly running out. It was exactly during times like this when Lovino found himself envying his brother: the Italian remembered an instance from middle school when Feliciano had forgotten his notes home and ended up improvising an entire presentation on Second World War history. From what Lovino had heard, he’d mixed up some of the facts in the process, and yet he’d hardly even seemed embarrassed when he’d told about it to his brother over a steaming bowl of pasta.

For now, Lovino had no idea how he would survive the presentation, but it was hardly the first time he had doubts about whether or not he would make it through the next period of school. Lovino fixed the screen in front of him with a final glare before promptly closing his laptop and standing up from his seat. He would worry about his school assignments later, but first he would go see Antonio. At least that much had changed from when he had been in middle school or high school: now he had someone whose company he could look forward to, someone who could make him feel less like a total failure regardless of all his doubts and indecisiveness.  

It had quickly become a routine for Lovino to head to Antonio’s flat each afternoon after his classes. In fact, during the past week he’d spent more time in Antonio’s flat than his own, which was probably why the Spaniard had decided to give him a spare key to his flat the day before. It was a strange feeling, standing in front of Antonio’s door with a key in his hand, like he was about to enter his own home instead of just visiting someone.

_It’s almost like I’m living with Antonio._

The Italian was caught off guard by the embarrassingly strong sense of happiness the thought evoked in him, and he quickly tried to push it off his mind as he hastily opened the door after fumbling with the key for a moment. The kitchen was empty so Lovino continued straight to the door leading to Antonio’s room, knocking briefly and entering the room after he heard the Spaniard call him to come in.

The brunet was lying on his bed in front of his laptop, apparently in the middle of reading something. However, the instance Lovino walked into the room, he tore his eyes off the screen and fixed the Italian with a small smile. Like every time Lovino had looked at the Spaniard after his injury, he couldn’t help but to notice the dark circles under his eyes and the weariness in his look, the weariness that didn’t go away even when he smiled. However, he did his best to ignore the familiar stinging in his heart and instead focused on answering the Spaniard as he greeted him.

“Are you busy doing something?” the Italian asked as his eyes moved back to the laptop in front of the brunet.

Antonio quickly shook his head as he too gave the screen a short glance. “No, not really. I was just finishing my research project for next Monday, but it’s pretty much done already.”

“What is it about?” Lovino found himself asking as he again glanced at the laptop even though he couldn’t see the screen from where he was standing. He knew that the Spaniard was majoring in sociology, which was a subject Lovino hadn’t even considered taking, but he nevertheless found himself curious about the kind of assignments Antonio had to do.

“The effects of cultural homogenization on the American society”, Antonio said as he ran his fingers through his hair, which looked slightly messier than usual. “Took me ages, but I think it’s finally done”, he said, while letting out a chuckle that sounded more like a sigh.

“Can I read it?” Lovino asked, unable to control his growing curiosity.

Antonio responded by turning his look back to Lovino as the smile promptly returned to his lips. “Sure, I think I could use the opinion of someone like you before turning it in.”

“Someone like me?” the Italian asked, his brows creasing into a suspicious frown.

“Someone who’s good at academics”, Antonio said instantly, raising his brows at Lovino like the meaning of his words should have been obvious.

Lovino blinked as it hit him that he had just been complimented. It might have just been a casual remark, but coming from Antonio it nevertheless made him feel that familiar bubbly warmth in his chest. And at the same time the mention of his academic skills made his thoughts drift back to the presentation that was looming ahead of him like the end of the world, reminding him of how pathetic he was to be so intimidated by merely talking in front of other people, which surely shouldn’t have been such a big deal. The Italian felt his stomach twist painfully as he once again struggled to push off the anxiety that had yet again managed to engulf him in his short moment of vulnerability.

“Lovino?”

Antonio’s voice finally pulled the Italian back from his thoughts. As he turned his look back to the Spaniard, he found him eyeing him with a confused frown on his face, as if wondering what on earth was going on inside his head.

Feeling slightly embarrassed for suddenly spacing out like that, Lovino left his spot from where he’d been standing in front of the door and joined Antonio on the bed. It was a rather tight fit, for the bed was technically meant for only one person to sleep in, but during the past week the Italian had found that he quite enjoyed the intimacy of feeling the Spaniard right next to him. As someone who was used to feeling uncomfortable when people touched him, Lovino had first been a little surprised by his discovery, but then again Antonio had quickly become a special case when it came to things like that.

Lovino promptly accepted the pillow offered to him by the Spaniard and turned his attention to the laptop screen in front of him. He found that Antonio had done a fairly decent job with his research project, or at least so it seemed to someone who wasn’t very familiar with the particular field of study. In any case, all the data seemed to be appropriately organized and discussed, and the only obvious mistakes that Lovino spotted were the grammatical errors. The Italian was actually a little surprised to see how many of those there were, considering how fluently the Spaniard spoke English.

 “Antonio, you can’t write that in English”, Lovino said, taking his eyes off the laptop screen as he reached the third page of the document, raising a questioning eyebrow at the Spaniard next to him. “You translated it directly from Spanish, didn’t you?”

The brunet opened his eyes, squinting at the screen over Lovino’s shoulder. “What, I can’t?” he mumbled sleepily, resting his chin on the Italian’s shoulder.

“And you’re not supposed to use the verb “make” here, it’s “do”. And here…” Lovino felt the Spaniard’s fingers slowly run through his hair as the feeling of his warm breath on his neck tickled him, enough to distract him from his reading.

“Your hair is so beautiful, Lovino”, the Spaniard mused softly, completely unfazed by the grammar errors Lovino had pointed out.

If it had been anyone else but Antonio, the Italian would have got seriously annoyed by being interrupted like that. Then again, this was one of those instances where the same rules that applied to everyone else didn’t apply to the Spaniard, and Lovino found himself merely sighing in resignation, wondering how it could be that just the way Antonio said his name so tenderly never failed to make his heart beat a little faster.

“You’re just trying to distract me, aren’t you?” he said in exasperation, even though there was no real anger in his tone.

“But it’s true”, Antonio said innocently as he nuzzled his face in the crook of Lovino’s neck and continued to gently stroke the hair at the back of his head.

“Yeah, whatever”, the Italian muttered, even as his ears now felt significantly warmer than just a moment ago.

The way the Spaniard managed to say such embarrassing things in such a natural manner never ceased to amaze Lovino. And not only that, but the words were always full of such sincere warmth that it was impossible for Lovino to brush them off as meaningless. No, just hearing the fondness in Antonio’s voice was enough to make the Italian’s chest fill with a tingling sense of warmth that he still wasn’t quite used to. It was the same with the way he ran his fingers through his hair so gently and adoringly, like Lovino was something beautiful, something precious that deserved to be cherished.

It was a feeling that had scared Lovino at first, for he knew that a heart which had once known such happiness would be left with nothing but an aching sense of emptiness once that happiness was taken away. However, now that the Italian looked back at his life before meeting Antonio, he couldn’t help but to think that “empty” would have been the perfect word to describe it.

He had maybe slowly grown numb at the pain of losing his parents, and the feelings of not being good enough, of being looked at with distaste wherever he went, had become such an everyday part of his life that he had almost forgot what it had felt like when things had been different. However, his life had been little more than a continuing series of days that blended into each other, devoid of anything special that could’ve stood out from the sequence and painted it with something else than that never-ending dull grey.

That had been until he’d happened to meet a certain cheerful and overly talkative shop assistant named Antonio. It had been the first time in years that somebody had pressed the light switch in Lovino’s life, showing him all the different colors he’d been failing to see until then, showing him that there was so much more to life than what he had remembered. After that discovery, after seeing the world with all its beautiful colors, it had been too late for Lovino to turn back, too late for him to go back to that endless dull grey.

Laying on Antonio’s bed, snuggled close to the Spaniard’s warm body while a set of gentle fingers soothingly stroked his hair, Lovino didn’t doubt for a second that he’d made the right choice. No, he had found that there were things that were worth the risk, things that Lovino would continue to hold onto, even if there was the chance that they would one day end up destroying him. After all, he thought, that chance was still just a distant threat lurking in the unforeseen future, the future that Lovino would maybe one day be strong enough to face without being overwhelmed by his old fears.

Lovino was pulled back from his thoughts by the feeling of Antonio’s fingers slowly sliding down from his hair to rest on his neck. The Italian tore his eyes off the laptop screen in front of him, instead focusing them on the Spaniard lying next to him on the bed. He was facing Lovino with his head resting on the same pillow that was under the Italian’s chest, his brown hair was its usual wavy mess that fell on his forehead, with several strands sticking out in random directions. His eyes were closed and his face muscles relaxed so that any last remnants of the tension that had lately strained his handsome features were nowhere to be seen.

Somehow Antonio looked younger as he was sleeping, bearing more resemblance to his younger self who was grinning cheerfully in the picture on his cabinet door than the Antonio Lovino had grown to know. The sight made Lovino’s heart ache with the need to protect the Spaniard, to return that cheerful, carefree grin on his face, the grin that had recently become more strained, unable to fully remove the look of pain and weariness from his brilliant eyes.

After quickly finishing reading the document, Lovino again paused to study Antonio’s sleeping face next to him. Even though the Spaniard had always tried to downplay the severity of the problem to Lovino, the Italian knew he had been having trouble sleeping ever since the day of his injury. Lovino knew from personal experience what it felt like to be weighed down by multiple nearly sleepless nights, and considering that the Spaniard was sound asleep next to him when it was barely past seven o’clock yet, Lovino figured the problem really was much worse than he had wanted to admit.

After promising himself he would scold the Spaniard for not telling him the truth about his sleeping problem the first thing tomorrow, the Italian silently closed the laptop lid and slowly slid his body towards the edge of the bed, careful not to wake Antonio in the process. However, he had barely managed to move an inch before he felt the Spaniard’s hand, which had been formerly resting on his neck, reach out to hold securely onto his right shoulder. The Italian froze still, straining his ears as he listened to the Spaniard’s breathing, relieved to find it as slow and even as just a moment ago.

Lovino considered his options for a few seconds, coming to the conclusion that he couldn’t risk waking Antonio by trying to free himself from his hold. That left him with only one option: he would have to spend the night in the Spaniard’s bed. The Italian cursed himself for the sudden bashfulness the realization evoked in him, quickly shaking any weird thoughts off his mind. They might have been sharing a bed, but all they were about to do was sleep in it. With that determined thought in his mind, Lovino settled more comfortably next to the Spaniard, closing his eyes and willing himself to fall asleep in the absence of anything better to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid I'll have to start updating this story only once every three weeks from now on, as it looks like I'm not able to keep up with the fortnightly updating schedule. I'm a pretty slow writer and I have a ton of school assignments to work on as well, but I will keep writing this story whenever I have time so please bear with the infrequent updates! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this new chapter and thank you for continuing to read my story! Any feedback you might have is always appreciated!


	11. Chapter 11

Antonio was sitting on a cushioned chair in a small office room with a polished mahogany desk and a matching set of chairs on a furry beige carpet, a large window on the right-hand-side wall and a bookshelf that was almost tall enough to reach the ceiling on the left. It was nothing like the hospital rooms the Spaniard had so far had to stay in, for it lacked all the whiteness and empty space that had only added to the paralyzing emptiness in his own mind. No, the only things that told him the room belonged to a medical facility were the anatomy posters decorating the wall behind the desk and the titles of the books in the tall bookshelf.

And yet the coziness of the room was hardly enough to keep the familiar sense of hopelessness from swelling in his chest once again as he fixed his eyes on the papers laid out on the shiny surface of the desk in front of him. His eyes followed the movement of the pen that the white-clad woman sitting behind the desk pointed at the papers, and each word she spoke seemed to increase the heavy weight settling in Antonio's stomach, much like on the day of his injury when he'd been told he might never get to play soccer again.

"…I will see you again in two weeks and check your progress", the woman said while tapping one of the papers with her pen, "but for now you will continue with the same exercises you have been doing until this point. The focus should be on slowly increasing the motion range of your knee, but you have to remember that if you feel any pain while doing them, you're pushing yourself too hard."

It took a couple of seconds for Antonio to realize that she was waiting for his reply, after which he quickly raised his look from the papers lying on the desk and faced the woman sitting in front of him. She was approximately in her late fifties, with her white-streaked brown hair pulled back in a tight bun and an especially stern look in her vigilant blue-grey eyes as she fixed them at the Spaniard, who forced himself to give her a small nod before letting his gaze drop to the papers yet again.

"I know it is not easy, but I need you to keep your focus on one milestone at a time: Thinking too far ahead will only make things harder."

There was a new kind of softness to her voice as she spoke, and yet her words still seemed to hit Antonio with a crushing force, hammering down the last traces of hopefulness that had remained in his heart until that moment. It wasn't that he had forgotten about the severity of his injury, but somehow having it constantly laid out to him how _far ahead_ even the prospect of a full recovery was felt like a blow to the gut. His eyes focused on the paper his physiotherapist's pen was now lying on, the paper that told him that even in the best-case scenario, assuming he _would_ make a full recovery, it would take at least six months before he could join his teammates in any full-intensity practices.

Looking at that paper, the Spaniard suddenly felt like all the hopeful thoughts he'd secretly harbored in his mind had been nothing but self-deception. Surely it should have been obvious that if he could now barely bend his right knee let alone put his whole weight on it, how could he expect to return to the soccer field any time soon? Surely he should have known that even in the best-case scenario, it would take months before he could even think about resuming his normal practice schedule? Yes, it wasn't so much that the knowledge had caught him by surprise, but that having it stated so clearly on paper, with no ambiguity or room for questions, still left him at a loss.

And yet that was the reality he would have to live in, and there was nothing he could do about it. All he _could_ do was keep following his re-habitation program and slowly work his way back to where he had been before his whole life had been turned upside down in that one fateful moment on the soccer field. The definiteness of it sank like a stone to the bottom of his stomach, crushing all the hopeful ideas he hadn't even been fully aware he'd been harboring until that moment. He swallowed the lump that had been forming in his throat, weakly clenching his fists to stop his hands from trembling.

It was at that moment when Antonio suddenly felt a warm hand land on top of his own, giving it a firm squeeze and remaining there with no intentions of letting go. The sudden contact was almost enough to startle the Spaniard, who had been lost in the sense of hopelessness that had once again engulfed his mind. He quickly tore himself from his thoughts, slowly lifting his head to meet the pair of amber eyes that was fixed at him in a resolute look that seemed to say:

_I bet you're thinking about something stupid again, pull yourself together._

Regardless of the tightness that was still straining his throat and chest, Antonio felt a weak smile form on his lips as he recognized the look in the Italian's beautiful eyes. It was a look of burning determination, a look that managed to restore some strength even to the Spaniard's numb body with its sheer intensity. Taking Lovino's hand properly into his own and giving it a thankful squeeze, Antonio finally shifted his look back to the physiotherapist.

"I'll keep your advice in mind", he said, giving the woman in front of him an apologetic smile.

"Good", she said with a brief nod, and Antonio was surprised to see that there was a small smile playing on her lips. "You can contact me earlier if you have any questions, but otherwise we will meet again in another two weeks."

The physiotherapist stood up from her chair and collected the papers lying on her desk, handing them to the Spaniard in a neat stack before escorting the two boys to the door, where they exchanged final handshakes and farewells.

When they were finally back in the spacey car of Antonio's team's medic - a friendly young woman who had accompanied him on his visit to the physiotherapist - the Spaniard promptly reclaimed Lovino's hand, receiving no complaints from the Italian who simply squeezed his hand back with nearly as much force as previously in the physiotherapist's office. The Italian's hand felt comfortingly warm and concrete against Antonio's own, and somehow that warmth seemed to seep into the Spaniard's body, easing the strain in his muscles and the pressure in his chest as he leant against the back of his seat and closed his eyes briefly.

As he did so, an old memory suddenly resurfaced in his mind, a memory he'd already half forgotten about but that now came to him in so much detail that it could have happened just days ago: His old room back in Spain with an open suitcase lying on the floor – brand new unlike everything else in the room – and neatly piled clothes sitting on the bed beside Antonio himself. The Spaniard was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting against his knees as he stared at the photograph he was holding in his hands – the same photograph of his high school soccer team that was presently taped to one of the cabin doors in his room at the college campus.

The Spaniard could easily remember the feelings of anxiety and uncertainty that had filled his mind back then – the feelings that had most of the time been outweighed by excitement and anticipation, but that at that moment, perhaps sensing their last chance, had threatened to overwhelm him. He remembered looking at the faces of his teammates, some of whom he'd known ever since he was little, as it hit him properly for the first time that he most likely wouldn't be seeing any of them for a whole year. Sitting there alone in his room with only the photograph in his hands, he had suddenly felt very small and very lonely, like a single dot that was too tiny to be spotted on the world map.

Antonio wasn't sure how long he had sat there before a soft knock on the door had pulled him from his thoughts. His mother had entered the room, easily stepped over the suitcase and sat down on the bed next to her son after carefully moving the pile of clothes that was in her way. Now that Antonio thought about it, he had only a very vague idea of the actual conversation they'd had back then, but it was the look in his mother's eyes that he could still see in his mind without any of that time-induced vagueness. It had been a look very similar to the one he'd seen in Lovino's eyes just a while ago, a look that had seemed to tell him:

_You can do this, I know you can._

Antonio opened his eyes in the backseat of the car, stealing a quick glance at the Italian next to him: He was sitting in the middle seat with a straight view at the windshield, where his eyes were focused on the road ahead in that thoughtful look of his, his brows slightly furrowed under his auburn bangs. The afternoon sun coming in from the window to his left cast a faint orange glow on his olive skin and danced on his hair like a flickering flame. The Spaniard's eyes lingered on him for a while longer before he half-forcibly turned his look to the window to his right.

His feelings for the Italian had only been growing during the past two weeks, the two weeks that had without a doubt been filled with more emotion than any other time in his life so far. While a large portion of that emotion had been fear and anxiety induced by the veil of uncertainty shrouding his future, another nearly as large portion had been made up of the overwhelming affection that swelled in his chest whenever he looked into Lovino's bright amber eyes or touched his soft, warm skin. That affection had only become stronger as Antonio became more and more certain of the fact that the Italian wasn't about to abandon him because of his weakness, that he only seemed more determined to stand by his side when he doubted himself, when the hopelessness of his situation threatened to overwhelm him.

Just being able to hold Lovino's hand in his own filled Antonio's anxious mind with a soothing sense of reassurance, reminding him that however lost he was, at least he wasn't alone. He might have been staggering in his steps, battling the void of hopelessness that threatened to pull him into its depths, but just like his mother had given him the courage to take the first step towards his dream, Lovino was now there to give him the will to keep standing.

**xxx**

It was Friday evening the same week, and Lovino was washing the batch of tomatoes and carrots he needed for the pasta sauce he was about to prepare for dinner. Earlier that day, he had visited the town center to stock up on groceries for himself and Antonio, also passing by in the small vegetable shop Antonio had used to work at before having to take temporary leave because of his injury. Like each time that Lovino had visited the shop during the past weeks, the old shop-keeper had questioned him about how the Spaniard was doing, refusing to take any payment for the items the Italian had come to buy. While Lovino had always disliked getting things for free, for it left him with the uneasy feeling that he owed the other person something, he had quickly found himself unable to argue with the old man after what he'd said the first time he'd tried refusing his offer:

" _That boy is like a grandson to me. It's not much, but at least let an old man feel like he's doing something to help."_

The Italian picked the last tomato from the paper bag next to the sink and brought it under the tap, washed it, then carefully placed it on the chopping board, which was by now packed with vegetables. Now that he thought about it, the Italian probably shouldn't have felt so surprised to see the warmth with which the old shop-keeper regarded the Spaniard. Actually, it reminded Lovino a lot about the way people had always tended to talk about his brother, Feliciano, who always seemed to bring out the best qualities in everyone he met with his cheerful attitude and light-hearted smile.

As much as he had loathed himself for it, the Italian had often felt bitter towards his brother, for all the positive attention he got only made the disapproving looks targeted at Lovino sting more. Now, however, he realized with a slight sense of surprise that he hardly felt the same way towards Antonio. In fact, now that he thought about it, Lovino couldn't even remember a single time that the old shop-keeper would've looked at him disapprovingly, nor could he remember Antonio's physiotherapist doing that either when they'd visited her that Monday.

Maybe it was because they didn't feel the need to compare him to Antonio the way people had always compared him to Feliciano, who was not only his brother but also greatly resembled him in terms of physical appearance. Or maybe Antonio's aura of warmth and friendliness somehow managed to envelop Lovino as well, blocking any moodiness that would've otherwise reached the people around him. Whatever the reason was, the Italian could hardly say the change was unwelcome, even if it left him feeling slightly perplexed.

Picking up the chopping board from the sink - careful not to drop any of the vegetables - Lovino walked up to the kitchen table, where Antonio was already waiting for him. Judging from the small smile playing on his lips, Lovino conducted the Spaniard had been watching him the whole time.

"Seriously? Do you have nothing better to do than to stare at me?" The Italian asked with a raised eyebrow as he placed the chopping board and a vegetable knife on the table in front of Antonio.

The Spaniard's smile only widened at Lovino's irritable words, and the Italian couldn't help but to feel like the brunet enjoyed getting that kind of a reaction from him, which did little to alleviate his irritation.

"I wouldn't say staring at you is a bad way to pass time, at all", Antonio said in an infuriatingly innocent tone, causing the Italian's ears to heat up in what he convinced himself was pure annoyance.

"Bastard", he muttered, fixing the Spaniard with one last scowl before marching back to the kitchen to prepare the rest of the ingredients. However, he had hardly missed the delighted grin his reaction had caused to spread on Antonio's face, nor the way his emerald eyes held their usual lively sparkle that had most of the time been missing during the weeks after his injury.

With a small frown on his face, Lovino set to work in the kitchen while listening to the familiar sound of Antonio's knife swiftly hitting the chopping board as he began slicing the carrots. Ever since the Italian had started to spend his evenings in Antonio's flat, cooking dinner together had quickly become a part of their daily routine. At first, Lovino had tried convincing the Spaniard that he could prepare the food by himself, but as the other had persistently insisted on helping him, the Italian had ended up giving him the task of chopping the vegetables as it could be done while sitting down at the table. Since then, Lovino had quickly learnt that the Spaniard was good with his hands regardless of being a soccer player, as he always cut the vegetables neatly and perfectly according to the Italian's instructions.

Lovino hardly even had to think while preparing the rest of the ingredients for the pasta sauce, as it was a recipe he'd used ever since his mother had first started teaching him how to cook. Even as the Italian moved to the stove to spill the freshly chopped onion into a large saucepan along with a bit of olive oil, he could still see Antonio's smiling face in his mind as clearly as if he'd been standing right in front of him. No matter how hard he tried to be annoyed by Antonio's stupid remarks, he couldn't help the overwhelming feelings of relief and happiness that swelled in his chest at seeing the Spaniard's face light up in his usual bright smile, the smile that managed to clear even the last traces of worry and weariness from his eyes, even if just for a moment.

Having to see that look of anxiety that so often settled on Antonio's face not only greatly pained Lovino, but also made him feel utterly lost, like the whole world had been turned upside down. After all, it had been Antonio who had saved Lovino from the endless dark abyss he'd been wandering through and helped him gain the courage to actually start living his life. To then have to watch Antonio go through that same fear and hopelessness simply felt _wrong_ , so wrong that had Lovino believed in fate, he would have cursed it for the utter unfairness of the situation.

As Lovino finally joined Antonio at the table to eat the now ready food, he found his eyes constantly shifting from his plate to study the Spaniard sitting opposite to him. The Italian was contented to note that the dark circles under the brunet's eyes had become significantly lighter during the past week, and his skin tone, which had but a week ago been somewhat sickly, looked healthier as well. While quickly turning his eyes back to his plate before Antonio noticed his look, Lovino thought back to the previous Saturday and how the Spaniard had ended up falling asleep next to him in his bed.

Since Lovino had been feeling slightly awkward about sleeping next to Antonio, he had been surprised to wake up in the morning to realize that he had somehow managed to fall asleep in no time, and not to mention at a ridiculously early hour. Well, in reality, that had hardly been the first thing on his mind when he'd woken up in _Antonio's bed_ in an awkward position with his left leg hanging off the bed, his head half on top of Antonio's chest and the Spaniard's arm flung across his stomach. All he would say about that was that he'd been extremely thankful about the fact that the Spaniard had still been asleep at the time, as the initial shock had probably turned his face a rather interesting shade of red.

When Antonio had woken up a while later, Lovino had pushed his embarrassment aside to fulfill his earlier resolution by scolding the Spaniard for downplaying his sleeping problem to him. However, once the Spaniard had drooped his head with a painfully remorseful lopsided smile that was enough to compete even with Feliciano's best look of regret, the Italian's efforts to stay irritable had proved utterly futile. When Antonio had then casually asked him if he would mind sleeping next to him again on the following night, as he was sure that it had been Lovino's presence that had made him feel comfortable enough to fall asleep so easily, there had been no way the Italian could have denied his request.

After that, Lovino had quickly found himself moving in to Antonio's flat and only visiting his own place on the few occasions when he had to pick up his belongings, most of which he had already taken to Antonio's place at that point. Since then, while Antonio had mostly regained his normal sleeping schedule, also Lovino had come to notice that the reassuring feeling of Antonio's warm body next to him made him sleep better than usual, and as someone who had grown up sharing a room with his brother, the sound of the slow, even breathing of the Spaniard made him feel much cozier than the quietness of his own flat.

"You know, Lovino" Antonio said in a thoughtful tone, interrupting the Italian's thoughts. "Alfred is always complaining about how he's forced to eat his boyfriend's cooking - apparently it's really horrible."

Lovino focused his eyes on the Spaniard sitting across the table, raising a questioning eyebrow at him as he wondered where he was going with his remark.

"But your cooking is truly amazing. I guess I can just count myself really lucky", Antonio ended with a fond smile playing on his lips as he faced the Italian in front of him.

Lovino blinked at the compliment, which was just as spontaneous as the Spaniard's compliments always tended to be. And yet it was full of that warmth and pride that made it impossible for Lovino to question the sincerity of his words, leaving him uncertain about how he should respond. With a familiar sense of heat burning in the tips of his ears, Lovino fixed his eyes at his half-eaten food, shrugging his shoulders and stating matter-of-factly:

"You helped with the vegetables."

Antonio let out a light chuckle at his words as if they were something he'd been expecting. "I guess I did", he conceded, and Lovino could hear the smile in his voice even without looking.

Lovino cast a careful glance at the Spaniard's direction, briefly meeting his eyes which were filled with that look of indisputable warmth and adoration, a look that Lovino would have never expected anyone to give him. That look, as well as the words of praise Antonio often tended to give him, made it seem like Lovino was somehow exceptional and talented, which the Italian still hadn't quite got used to. However, even if such treatment somewhat perplexed Lovino, he would have been lying if he'd tried to claim he disliked it.

The two of them finished their dinner in the kind of a comfortable silence that enabled them to enjoy each other's company without feeling the need to talk. The atmosphere between the two of them wasn't only light and natural, but also filled with unspoken words of mutual trust arising from the bond that had been growing deeper and stronger between them during the past weeks. It was moments like those that managed to momentarily drive off most of the uncertainty and worry from the Italian's mind, making him feel strangely reassured about the future, regardless of the many difficulties he knew were still looming ahead of the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please remember that any feedback you might have is greatly appreciated! Please bear with me and my infrequent updating schedule - I'm really busy with school work and on top of that a really slow writer! :'D


	12. Chapter 12

Lovino lay on Antonio's bed - which had lately become as much his as it was the Spaniard's – with his chin resting on his hands and his brows creased in a small frown as he faced the laptop screen in front of him. The date of his public speaking course presentation was barely a month away, and while that might have sounded like a lot of time, the Italian knew perfectly well that if he kept pushing it off his mind like he'd been doing until now, that month would be gone way too quickly and he would find himself in big trouble.

Yes, he knew that perfectly well, and yet merely having to see the Word document with the title of his work opened on the screen in front of him gave him the urge to slam the laptop shut and never look at it again.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Lovino let one of his hands slide from his chin to his hair, where his fingers closed around a few strands of auburn hair. He had never been the type of person to do his school assignments the night before the due date – not because he had been all that motivated, but simply because he didn't like being in a hurry. During their high school days, it had always been Feliciano who had come crying to him with an unwritten essay that was to be turned in the next day, begging for his _fratello's_ help. Each time Lovino would first tell him that it wasn't his problem, until he would eventually give in in front of his brother's big watery eyes and write the essay for him, all the while grumbling under his breath.

No, writing essays - whether they were his own or Feliciano's - had never been a problem to Lovino. However, the same couldn't be said about presentations: Merely the idea of having to go to the front of the large classroom where his public speaking curse was held in and give a twenty-minute presentation to a 50-headed audience made the Italian's insides turn to ice. No, there was no way he would be able to do that, and yet he would _have_ to do it if he wanted to pass the course and have English literature as his major for his sophomore year.

That thought alone made Lovino want to focus his attention anywhere else but the document in front of him, even though he knew that preparing properly would be the only way he would have any chance of surviving the day of the presentation. And yet the Italian felt like he would be screwed either way, whether he prepared properly or not: Each time he so much as thought about having to stand in front of the class, the memory of what had happened when he'd been in the same position during his third year of high school flashed in his mind, making the blood rush into the tips of his ears in a mixture of anger and humiliation.

It had been a couple of weeks after the Christmas break, and Lovino had had to give a presentation on the themes of guilt and conscience in Macbeth. He had nearly managed to get halfway to the end of the presentation, but when it was time for him to read an extract from the play, he had stumbled on the Shakespearean English and a few of his classmates at the back of the class had snickered. Having his nerves already on the edge, Lovino had completely lost his composure and yelled something like _"shut the fuck up you fucking bastards_ " before promptly running out of the classroom with his face burning with mortification.

Lovino's frown deepened into a scowl as the memory played through in his mind, making him finally give in to his urge of shutting the laptop lid with a little more force than necessary. He remained staring at the closed laptop like it was the main culprit to all his problems for a few more seconds, until he finally let his head sink onto a pair of folded forearms and firmly closed his eyes.

Lovino had only lain there for a couple of minutes before the sound of the front door being opened abruptly broke the silence in the room. The Italian only had to wonder for a couple of seconds whether the arrival was Francis or Antonio before he could hear the distinguishable tapping sound of the Spaniard's crutches as he entered the flat. A mixture of conflicting emotions immediately welled in Lovino's chest as he waited for Antonio to reach the bedroom: On the one hand he craved Antonio's comforting presence and on the other he felt the urge to hide in some distant corner where nobody –especially Antonio – could witness his pitifulness.

With his head buried securely in the crook of his elbow, Lovino heard the Spaniard open the bedroom door and come to a halt in the doorway.

"Lovino?" The Spaniard asked tentatively after a few seconds of silence, and even without looking Lovino could mentally see the concerned frown that must have appeared on his handsome face.

Hearing the worry in Antonio's voice only made Lovino feel guilty about his childish behavior, but unable to meet the Spaniard's eyes, the Italian remained silently lying with his face hidden behind one of his arms.

Antonio slowly made his way to the bed, until Lovino felt the mattress sink under the Spaniard's weight as he sat down on the edge of the bed. The next thing the Italian felt was Antonio's hand gently landing on the back of his head, making his muscles momentarily tense in surprise.

"Lovino, what's wrong?" Antonio asked softly after spending a minute soothingly stroking the Italian's hair.

While the thought of telling the Spaniard his problem in all its pitifulness made Lovino feel like a complete loser, he couldn't help but to feel his heart prickle with guilt for making Antonio worry about him. Only a month ago, he probably wouldn't have felt that way, but after everything the two of them had been through together, keeping secrets from the Spaniard had started to bother him surprisingly much: Ever since his mother's death, Lovino had developed a habit of keeping all his worries and insecurities tightly to himself, but thinking about how upset he'd been when Antonio hadn't told him the truth about his sleeping problem, the idea of hiding things from the Spaniard made him feel anxious with guilt.

After spending another ten or so seconds battling with his conflicted feelings, Lovino finally made his decision. He hesitantly lifted his upper body off the mattress, causing Antonio's hand to slide off his hair, and slowly got into a sitting position where he hugged his knees tightly against his chest. He carefully avoided looking at the Spaniard, who hadn't moved from his spot on the edge of the bed, where he was still patiently waiting for Lovino to talk.

"I have the public speaking course presentation before Christmas", Lovino said in a low, monotonous voice, his cheek pressed against his shoulder as he faced the wall on his right. After a short pause, during which Antonio silently waited for him to continue, he added morosely: "I'm… not good at giving presentations."

For the first time since the Spaniard had entered the room, Lovino sneaked a quick glance at him, catching him with a surprised look on his face. The Italian quickly turned back to the wall, feeling the tips of his ears grow significantly warmer than just a moment ago: Of course it sounded stupid when he said it out loud like that – Antonio had probably been expecting to hear something very serious, so of course he would be confused to hear that it was just a stupid presentation Lovino was so worried about.

"Presentation? Is that what's making you so troubled?" Antonio asked carefully, as if to make sure he'd understood correctly.

"You probably wouldn't understand, but speaking to a room full of people isn't that easy for everybody", Lovino muttered bitterly, wrapping his arms tighter around his knees as his brows creased into an angry scowl.

"Lovino…"

A warm hand landed gently on Lovino's shoulder, but the agitated Italian flinched at the sudden contact, causing it to hesitantly retreat.

"Hey, Lovino… I didn't mean it like that."

The Spaniard's voice held a hint of hurt that made Lovino's heart sting with guilt, which only added to the bundle of anxiety swelling in his chest. A stray strand of hair fell on his face as he pressed his cheek tighter into his right shoulder, but he didn't bother brushing it away.

"Is there… Is there anything I could do to help?"

The sincerity in Antonio's voice caused the lump in Lovino's throat to grow larger, making him curse himself for letting the Spaniard have that kind of an effect on him.

"I don't think they would let you go there and give the damn presentation in my stead", Lovino said, his voice quavering slightly regardless of the sarcasm. "We don't look exactly similar, you know."

"I could help you practice", Antonio suggested with a sudden earnestness to his voice, making the Italian lift his head slightly from where it had been resting against his shoulder.

"What do you mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"You could practice talking in front of me first - then you wouldn't have to present it in class for the first time!"

Lovino turned his head enough to catch the excited grin on Antonio's face. His brows creased slightly, but this time more in thought than anger.

"Oh!" Antonio said suddenly, as if he'd just been hit by a brilliant idea, "maybe Francis could help too, what do you think?"

"No."

"Huh?"

Lovino fixed the Spaniard with a steadfast glare. "I'm not agreeing to this if you're getting me an audience."

A look of disappointment crossed Antonio's face, until his lips suddenly spread into a bright grin. "Wait, so you're agreeing on doing it if it's just me?"

Lovino blinked, partly because of the blinding grin on Antonio's face and partly because he had just sort of agreed on his suggestion, without fully even realizing what he'd been saying. But now that he thought about it, the idea of practicing with Antonio somehow managed to ease the anxiety the presentation evoked in him, even though the idea of talking about literature in front of the Spaniard did feel a little weird.

Letting out a small sigh, the Italian rested his chin on top of his knee and muttered in resignation: "I guess I am."

From the corner of his eye, Lovino could see Antonio continue to beam at him, making him mentally shake his head in bewilderment: He had never seen Antonio look so excited about anything even remotely related to schoolwork.

**xxx**

On Saturday morning, the approaching winter – which had been looming ahead of the residents of the small college town already for the past month – seemed to have finally arrived for real: Instead of the murky grey clouds that had hung upon them for weeks at a time, or the couple of weeks of mild autumn sun that had followed, the sky was now clear of the last traces of clouds while the air was crisp and harsh, stinging any bare skin it could reach and causing breathing to form visible puffs of white vapor.

Antonio couldn't say he liked the cold weather. In fact, as someone who came from a country where it was warm the whole year round, he was still struggling to get used to having to wear a thick coat, a pair of gloves, a scarf and a hat just to keep himself from freezing to death. Because of that, going for a walk in a 30 _F_ weather wasn't normally his idea of the perfect Saturday morning activity. However, after a month of barely spending any time outside his flat or classes, it had suddenly seemed like a welcome change to his daily routine.

Regardless of the chilly air that prickled at his nose and the tips of his ears, just being able to walk through the school grounds almost normally with only one of his crutches filled the Spaniard with such a strong sense of elation and relief that he was hardly even bothered by the cold: After all those weeks of anxiously waiting and hoping for a recovery, he finally felt like he had managed to get at least a small step closer to returning to the soccer field. That day might have still been far ahead, but at least now some of the heavy mist that had been blocking it from view had been cleared away, allowing Antonio to see it like a beckoning gleam of light waiting for him in the future.

The park area was more or less deserted, both due to the cold weather and the fact that it was a Saturday morning and most students were still probably sleeping in the comfort of their flats. However, Antonio had woken up early enough to join his teammates at the gym for the first time since his injury, and even though he'd been following his own workout routine designed for him by his physiotherapist, finally getting to attend practice had filled him with a sudden surge of energy that had made it impossible for him to loiter around in his flat like usual.

Antonio hadn't expected Lovino to join him on his walk, for he knew that the Italian didn't really like going out if it wasn't necessary, especially in a cold weather. However, when the Spaniard had announced that he was heading out for a walk after coming to drop off his gym bag and change into warmer clothes, Lovino had insisted on accompanying him. Having witnessed the reluctance with which Lovino got out of bed whenever he had to attend a lecture in the morning, the Italian's newfound determination had left Antonio in awe.

Even now, Lovino was hardly complaining as he walked silently beside the Spaniard, his shoulders hunched against the chilly breeze that made the leaves fall from the maples lining the pathway, carrying them through the air until they eventually piled up on the ground to form a brown-and-orange carpet.

"Lovino, that jacket is way too thin for this weather."

Antonio eyed the shorter boy concernedly, noting the way the chilly air had tinted his nose and ears red as he walked with his hands tucked deep in the pockets of his indeed way too think jacket. The only appropriate winter garment he was wearing was the square-patterned fleece scarf he had wrapped around his neck and half of his face, leaving his head and ears with no protection against the cold breeze that blew his auburn locks off his face, making them dance around his head like the maple leaves travelling through the air all around them.

The Italian shook his head slightly, his brows furrowing in what could have been either annoyance or determination.

"I'm fine."

"I could've come here by myself, you know", the Spaniard said without taking his eyes off the shorter boy beside him. "I don't want you to catch a cold."

The Italian's frown deepened, and Antonio decided that there was definitely both annoyance and determination in his expression.

"I said I'm fine", Lovino said, fixing the Spaniard with a firm look even as another gust of wind caused him to hold onto the scarf in front of his mouth.

His voice was resolute regardless of being a little muffled by the scarf, and regardless of the guilt that Antonio felt for the knowledge that it was because of him that Lovino had left his room where he had been comfortably wrapped inside a warm blanket, the Spaniard couldn't stop a small smile from forming on his lips as he met the Italian's beautiful amber eyes:

It was that same look of resolution again, the look that might have seemed merely angry to someone who didn't know Lovino, but that Antonio knew was the Italian's way of showing that he cared for him.

The eye-contact only lasted for a couple of short seconds before Lovino promptly turned his head away, burying his face in his scarf so that even his nose was partly covered by the white-and-brown fabric. Just like that, the caring determination that never failed to fill Antonio's heart with an overwhelming sense of warmth changed into that evasive bashfulness that the Spaniard adored just as much. Letting his eyes linger on the Italian's profile a while longer, Antonio thought back to the Thursday of the same week, and how Lovino had told him about his upcoming presentation.

Antonio remembered walking into his room after his final class for the day and finding the Italian lying on his bed with his head resting on a pair of folded forearms and face hidden carefully out of sight. It hadn't taken more than a single look at the other boy for the Spaniard to know that something was wrong, and when the Italian had remained unresponsive regardless of his efforts of getting him to talk to him, he had really started to get worried. It wasn't like he had never seen Lovino in a gloomy mood before, but seeing that there was obviously something troubling him without having any idea of what it was and what he could do to help had nevertheless left Antonio feeling utterly helpless.

When Lovino had then finally opened up to him, Antonio couldn't say he hadn't at first been a little surprised to hear the reason for his gloominess. He wasn't sure what exactly he'd been expecting to hear, but after the several frightening scenarios that had crossed his mind during the minutes of silence, the Spaniard hadn't been expecting Lovino's troubles to relate to school work. His look of surprise hadn't gone unnoticed by Lovino, and the Spaniard had had to mentally kick himself for managing to further upset the Italian.

However, as Antonio now thought about it, the mere fact that Lovino had in the end shared his worries with him made him see how far they had come from the times when the Italian had seemed to withdraw into his protective shell each time he made the mistake of touching a sore topic. Even though Antonio knew that there was still a lot that he didn't know about the Italian, he treasured the moments in which he felt like he had got a little closer to gaining the trust of the person he loved from the bottom of his heart.

Antonio faced the empty pathway ahead of him, already able to discern the gates leading out from the campus area after the path curved to the left. Looking at the tall gateway that arched above the road like intricate steel vines entwining around each other, he was brought back to the memory of the night when he'd stood there alone, realizing he'd just made a mistake he wasn't sure he could fix. He could still remember the coldness that had slowly frozen his body from the inside as he'd watched Lovino's running figure grow more distant by each second that passed, until it eventually faded into the darkening night.

The Spaniard blinked his eyes, willing the memory to go away. Instead, his mind was flooded with another memory from the day after the previous one: the feeling of Lovino's slim body in his arms, the warm tears seeping into the front of his shirt and the silky auburn hair under his fingers – a combination of sensations that had completely melted the ice that had formed in his veins the night before. There were no words strong enough to fully describe the immense relief that Antonio had felt at that moment, a sense of relief so powerful that it had made him feel like his chest was about to burst under the sheer emotion.

The two boys came to a halt in the same spot in front of the gateway where they'd stood nearly two months ago in the memory that still lingered on Antonio's mind. Facing the gateway in front of him, the Spaniard let his eyes follow the road that edged the campus area and eventually lead to the center of the college town barely a quarter mile away. Then his eyes dropped down to his right knee, on which he was still wearing a brace. It did feel a little stiff and he was still using one of his crutches to avoid putting too much strain on it, but he happily noted that he hadn't felt any pain during the walk.

"You know, Lovino, we could go to town to look for a warmer jacket for you now", he said, glancing at the Italian beside him and worriedly noting that the tint of red on his ears and nose had got a shade darker.

"I told you I was fine, didn't I? You'll end up hurting yourself if you walk around too much." Lovino said, his brows creased in a frown as he faced Antonio with a firm _"don't argue with me on this"_ look in his eyes.

The Spaniard met his eyes, and the doubt must have been apparent in his expression for the Italian eventually sighed in exasperation, his breath forming a white puff of vapor even through the scarf covering his mouth.

"Fine, we'll go there next weekend. You happy now?"

Antonio smiled. "Yes. As long as you don't catch yourself a cold before that."

"I wasn't planning to. As long as you don't make these crazy morning walks of yours into a habit. Who would even want to go out in this weather?" The Italian muttered the last sentence under his breath as he pressed his arms tighter into his sides for additional warmth against the chilly wind.

Antonio didn't bother pointing out that it wasn't like he'd forced Lovino to accompany him on his walk. Instead, he just shook his head in surrender, a small smile still playing on his lips.

"I wasn't planning to." The Spaniard's smile grew into a smirk as he leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on the Italian's nose. Then his brows quickly creased into a worried frown again.

"You're ice cold, Lovino! We're going back in now."

Even though Antonio couldn't see Lovino's mouth, which was still hidden behind the scarf, he could've sworn the Italian was smirking at him in triumph.

**xxx**

Lovino had barely managed to get off his shoes when he felt his phone start to vigorously buzz in the back pocket of his jeans. Grumbling under his breath in frustration, the Italian reached out to take the phone out from his pocket, unsurprised to see that the incoming call was from Feliciano. Lovino stared at the name for a couple of seconds before he figured that he could as well just answer the call now, for it wasn't like his brother would leave him alone that easily if he didn't.

" _Fratello!_ " Feliciano's excited voice sounded the moment the Italian pressed the phone against his ear with one hand while struggling to take off his jacket with the other.

"Guess what, guess what? I had a math exam yesterday and I forgot my pencil but then a pretty girl in my class asked me if I'd like to borrow hers when I told the teacher I didn't have one", Feliciano babbled excitedly without bothering to stop to breathe.

"Uh-huh", Lovino replied, rolling his eyes slightly even though he knew his brother couldn't see him. He had finally managed to shed off his jacket and hang it in the cabinet next to the door, proceeding to head to Antonio's room while fumbling with the scarf that was still securely wrapped around his neck.

"The math was really hard though", Feliciano continued as the previous cheerfulness quickly faded from his voice so that Lovino could almost see the pout that must have settled on his face. "It had all those equations with those x's and stuff… And I didn't even have my _fratello_ to help me study…" he added desolately.

Lovino sighed. "It's not like you ever listened to me when I tried to help you, anyway", he pointed out, pressing down the door handle and entering the room, where he promptly sat down on the office chair in front of the desk, which was piled with both Antonio's and Lovino's books and notebooks alike.

The Italian's eyes moved back to the doorway he'd just entered through, following Antonio as he opened one of the cabinet doors and started going through its contents.

" _Fratello_ …" the younger boy whined, as if to claim that his brother's statement had been unfair. "I always tried to, but that stuff is just so difficult that I couldn't really concentrate... It was so much nicer when we were kids and we didn't have any of those x's and z's and y's and stuff."

"I guess it was", Lovino agreed, a slightly absent tone to his voice as he crossed his legs on the chair and watched Antonio close the cabinet door and turn to face him.

"Lovino, I'm going to the shower now", the Spaniard said quietly, pointing back at the door they'd both just entered through with his thumb. After Lovino gave him a quick nod, the Spaniard added with a smile: "Tell your brother hi from me."

The Italian watched as Antonio exited the room with a pile of clean clothes tucked under one of his arms, then focused his attention back on his brother.

"Antonio told me to say hi", he said as nonchalantly as possible, bracing himself for the response he knew was about to follow.

"Antonio?" Feliciano repeated without a hint of his earlier downheartedness, as if the mention of the Spaniard had wiped any memory of the math exam off his mind. "Is he there with you now?"

Lovino pushed a few books out of his way, then let his elbows sink onto the now empty part of the desk as he let out a half irritable, half amused sigh at his brother's enthusiasm.

"Why? You want to talk to him or what?"

The Italian immediately regretted having said that as he heard his brother gasp loudly on the other end of the call.

"Really? Can I?" Feliciano asked way too eagerly for Lovino's liking.

"No."

"But you just asked…" the younger boy started in protest, but trailed of as if he'd just remembered something very important. "Wait! I almost forgot to ask you, _fratello_!"

"Ask me what?" Lovino's brows creased in suspicion as he shifted in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position.

"When are you coming home for the Christmas break?"

Lovino blinked, caught by surprise by his brother's sudden inquiry. The truth was that he had hardly even thought about the approaching holiday, partly because the day of his presentation was looming ahead just before it, and partly because he had grown so used to Antonio's company that the idea of being somewhere else than with him seemed too strange to have even crossed the Italian's mind.

"Uh…" He muttered, unable to come up with an answer out of the blue. His left hand had begun to fumble with the edge of a paper that was sticking out from between one of the books he had read for his English classes.

"You don't know yet?" Feliciano asked with a hint of disappointment to his voice, making Loviono feel slightly guilty for hesitating with his answer.

Then, however, the cheerfulness was once again back in the younger Italian's voice as he added excitedly: "Oh! I asked Grandpa about it, and he said you could bring Antonio as well!"

Lovino's fingers froze in the middle of folding the edge of the paper.

"Wait, you told Grandpa about Antonio?" He demanded, sitting up straighter in his chair as he squeezed the phone against his ear.

Of course, Lovino shouldn't have expected his brother to keep something like that to himself, as he was known for saying pretty much whatever came to his mind without giving it much thought whatsoever. However, the thought that his strict and skeptical Grandpa knew that he was dating someone still made the Italian nervous enough to feel his heart start to beat faster in his chest.

" _Si_. Don't get mad _fratello_ , I had to tell him when he asked me if you were doing okay since he knows I'm calling you every week!" Feliciano said quickly, as if bracing himself for a scolding.

However, that scolding never came, as it finally hit Lovino's understanding what his brother had said just a moment ago.

"Wait… He said he wanted Antonio to come over with me?" Lovino asked, as if to make sure he'd understood correctly.

" _Si!_ " Feliciano confirmed excitedly.

"So... He's okay with it? With me being with Antonio?"

" _Si._ He said he's okay with it as long as Antonio makes you happy!"

Lovino blinked, again caught by surprise by what his brother had told him. After all those years of feeling like he was nothing but a nuisance to his grandpa, he hadn't been expecting to hear that Grandpa Roma was worrying about him and his happiness. Sure, it should have been natural for his grandpa to worry about him since he had been taking care of him ever since he was ten years old, and yet most of the time Lovino had felt like he regarded him with nothing more than exasperation and disappointment.

"He… said that?" Lovino asked, his fingers closing around the same edge of paper he'd been folding earlier.

" _Si_ ", the younger Italian replied again, as if he didn't quite understand why his brother sounded so surprised. Then he demanded eagerly: "So, when are you coming? He's not going somewhere else is he?"

Lovino leant forward on his elbows, forcing himself to get his thoughts back together. "I'll have to ask him. I'll call you back later."

"Okay, _fratello_ ", Feliciano said, clearly unsatisfied with the answer he'd been given.

However, at that moment, Lovino heard the sound of the bathroom door opening in the flat that was otherwise quiet as Francis was yet to come back from wherever he'd went the night before.

"I should go now, Feli", the Italian said in a slightly distracted tone, as he was still trying to wrap his mind around what he'd heard during the short phone call.

"Remember to call me back, _fratello_!"

"Yeah, I will", Lovino sighed, then pressed the red button on his screen and slowly laid his phone down on the desk before him.

The Italian had just had time to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down before he turned to face Antonio as he entered the bedroom.

The Spaniard was wearing a white tank top and a loose pair of shorts, and even though Lovino had seen him like that for countless of times during the past weeks, he couldn't help it that his eyes lingered on him a little longer than necessary. The Italian's look skimmed over his toned arms and legs, his beautifully tan skin and his hair which was damp and ruffled from being dried with a towel, its color closer to black than its normal rich brown. As Antonio approached him, walking slowly as he avoided putting too much strain on his injured leg, Lovino could have sworn he could feel the humid warmth of the shower hanging over him, giving him a sudden urge to snuggle close to him to get rid of the last remnants of coldness lingering in his body.

"How's your brother?" the Spaniard inquired while stopping to gently ruffle Lovino's hair as he passed by.

"The usual", Lovino said with a dismissive shrug, willing himself to stop staring at the other boy. He could feel his cheeks grow a little warmer both because of his embarrassing thoughts on how _good_ Antonio looked at the moment, and the confusion induced by his recent chat with Feliciano and the prospect of going to his place together with Antonio for the Christmas break.

Antonio raised his eyebrows curiously at the Italian, but then continued his way to the bed and leisurely lay down on his back, crossing his arms behind his head.

"You're not cold anymore are you?", the Spaniard asked in his earlier worried tone after carefully eyeing the Italian, who was still perched on the office chair with one of his legs folded in front of him.

The way Antonio fussed over him made the heat on Lovino's cheeks grow hotter as he tried to convince himself that no, he was not enjoying it at all.

"No, I'm fine."

Antonio continued to eye him concernedly from the bed. "Did something happen with your brother?"

Lovino dropped his look to his lap, frowning slightly as he shifted on the office chair, just enough so that Antonio wouldn't be able to see his face.

"Nothing happened. He just… he just asked me if I'd like to go home for the Christmas break."

After the short silence that followed Lovino's words, Antonio started: "It's okay, of course you should go to your family…"

"He asked me if… if you'd like to come with me." Lovino forced the words out, interrupting the Spaniard.

This time a longer silence followed his words, as if it took time for Antonio to comprehend what he was trying to say. When he finally spoke, however, the earlier dullness was missing from his voice.

"Of course I'd like to come", he said earnestly.

"Really?" Lovino asked, stealing a quick glance at Antonio.

The taller boy nodded his head, smiling at the Italian in a way that made him realize how moved the Spaniard was by his offer.

Then the smile on Antonio's lips faded a little, becoming slightly lopsided.

"Just… I understand if you want to be with just your family."

Antonio's voice became uncharacteristically uncertain, echoing a kind of loneliness that made Lovino realize that he'd probably spent the previous Christmas break alone at the campus when pretty much everyone else had went to visit their families. The Italian's heart prickled painfully at the thought, filling him with a new urge to hug the Spaniard.

"You… are my family too." The Italian found himself mumbling quietly, properly registering what he'd said only after he'd actually said it. And only after he'd said it, he realized that he really meant it from the bottom of his heart: Lovino wasn't sure if he'd ever before felt so at home as he did whenever Antonio touched him or even just looked at him in that warm, affectionate way of his.

Just when Lovino started wondering if Antonio had even heard him, the Spaniard said very softly and quietly:

"Lovino… come here."

Lovino blinked, almost startled by the sudden request. Then he slowly turned on his chair so that he was facing the bed, keeping his eyes focused on his feet. He stood up and sat down on the edge of the bed, and a second after he felt a pair of strong arms gently but firmly close around his waist. He just had time to think that Antonio's skin really was as warm as he'd imagined before he was pulled down to lie on his back with his head resting on the Spaniard's shoulder.

"Antonio…" he mumbled with confused embarrassment, although there was no real protest in his voice.

Lovino felt the Spaniard's lips lightly brush over his ear, his warm breath making the Italian shiver slightly. Then the pair of strong arms tightened their hold around his waist, pressing him firmly against the Spaniard's warm body and removing all remnants of the coldness Lovino had been feeling.

When Antonio finally spoke, his voice was only a faint whisper, soft and tender and almost broken under the kind of thickness that Lovino recognized easily from personal experience:

"You too, Lovino."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up becoming a little longer than the previous ones, I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to tell me your thoughts on it (or the whole story) in a comment, any feedback you might have is greatly appreciated!


	13. Chapter 13

Lovino gave his laptop screen one last frown, then shut the lid and leaned back in the office chair, flexing his arms behind his head. His shoulders felt stiff from spending the whole afternoon hunched in front of the laptop, but at least he had the feeling he'd finally managed to get something done.

A quick look at his phone told Lovino it was almost 6.30 PM, which meant that Antonio would be back from watching his team's field practice in about ten minutes or so, after which he was supposed to help the Italian prepare for his presentation. The thought of Antonio made Lovino give the door on the other side of the bedroom a quick glance, as if he'd expected the Spaniard to burst in at any minute.

While the Italian felt himself getting slightly nervous at the thought of actually rehearsing his presentation in front of the other boy, he realized that instead of his usual urge to escape a stressful situation, he actually found himself impatiently waiting for the Spaniard's return.

Lovino again fixed his eyes at the door across the room, letting his brows crease in a thoughtful frown. Instead of the unmoving white surface he was faced with, in his mind he could still see Antonio's hand closing around the handle as he turned to say a casual bye to Lovino, flashing him one of those bright smiles of his, a smile that had the power to light up his features and give his eyes that warm sparkle.

Just the thought of that smile filled Lovino's chest with a tingling sense of warmth that made him want to see it again, even though it had been barely two hours since the Spaniard had left the room. Just being able to see that smile seemed to make everything seem less dreadful and more achievable to the Italian, filling him with a sense of confidence he'd never possessed before.

Ever since Lovino had met Antonio, he'd admired his seemingly unlimited supply of energy that shone from his bright smile and sparkling green eyes. However, after the Spaniards injury, when that lively sparkle had faded from his eyes and Lovino had felt like the whole world had suddenly plunged into darkness, he had learned to value it even more.

When that smile had recently started to appear on Antonio's face more and more often, replacing that look of pain and worry that had torn at Lovino's heart for weeks, it had not only filled the Italian with an overwhelming sense of relief but also inspired him in a completely new way: The thought that somebody could survive such a crushing setback and emerge with that smile on his face filled the Italian with wonder and awe, as well as with an unexpected sense of hope; the realization that maybe - just maybe - anything could be possible if you just refused to give up.

With that thought still lingering at the back of his mind, the Italian stood up from the office chair, grimacing as he properly straightened his back for the first time in hours. He would still have time to make himself a cup of coffee before Antonio came back, and he didn't mind the idea of getting a little caffeine in his system before starting to practice for his dreaded presentation.

However, as the Italian pulled open the door and exited the bedroom with the intention of heading to the kitchen, he quickly froze in his tracks.

Seated at the kitchen table was Francis, wearing his purple satin shirt and a grey vest with his laptop sitting on the table in front of him next to a large, floral pattern mug. The Frenchman seemed to be quite engrossed in whatever he was going through on his laptop, as he did not show any signs of noticing Lovino's presence before the Italian finally broke out of his surprised daze.

"Francis."

"Ah, _bon soirée_ , Lovino!" The blond immediately turned his attention to Lovino, elegantly bringing his hand to fix his hair as if he couldn't stand the thought of someone seeing him with a single strand sticking out in an unfashionable manner.

"What are you doing here?" Lovino asked, eyeing the Frenchman with slightly narrowed eyes as he tried to figure out why he looked so out of place sitting there at the kitchen table.

"I live here, _mon_ _chéri_ ", the Frenchman said with a raise of his eyebrows, causing Lovino's face to heat up in a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

"I'm aware of that, but it's Friday." Lovino said as he finally realized what it was that made the blond look so out of place. As soon as he'd said it, the Italian's eyebrows creased in suspicion. "Don't tell me you've invited someone over."

" _Pas du tout_ , Lovino. I'm merely having _un petit prol_ _ème_ with a painting I'm supposed to complete… You see, I haven't been able to find a suitable model yet." The Frenchman said as he leaned forward in his chair, losing his interest in his laptop and instead focusing his full attention on Lovino. Even though he'd addressed it as a problem, the Italian didn't think Francis looked too worried about missing a 'suitable' model.

"Right."

"Ah, there's coffee in the press. You can have it, I made too much for myself." The Frenchman added as Lovino walked past him to the kitchen.

_How did he even know I wanted to have coffee? And why is he being so helpful all of a sudden?_

Lovino stopped in front of the sink, where he eyed the French coffee press suspiciously.

" _N'inquiéte_ _pas_ , I didn't put anything weird in it." Francis announced cheerfully, causing the frown on Lovino's face to deepen.

"I wouldn't be so sure – it's _you_ we're talking about after all…" The Italian muttered, only partly sarcastically.

"Oh, _mon chéri,_ why must you hurt me like this?" Francis gasped melodramatically, causing Lovino to grit his teeth in frustration.

"I'm not your " _chéri_ ", you indecent French bastard", he retorted, turning to fix the Frenchman with a glare.

The Frenchman let out another offended gasp, causing Lovino to roll his eyes as he turned to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Lovino gave the cup a suspicious sniff, but all he could detect was the normal bitter aroma of black coffee. After casting the cup one more doubtful glance, he shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to open the fridge in search for milk.

"Ah! The milk is here, I forgot to buy a new one so I borrowed yours, _c'est d'accord_?"

The Italian turned around, fixing the Frenchman with another firm glare. He might have offered Lovino coffee, but somehow that didn't seem to make him any less annoying than usual.

"If you're missing a model, then shouldn't you be looking for one instead of just sitting there?"

"But I am looking, I'm just waiting for Antonio to get back from his practice", Francis said, and something about his tone caused Lovino's eyes to once again narrow in suspicion.

"And what kind of a model are you looking for, anyway?" The Italian asked warily without taking his eyes off the Frenchman.

"A nude model", Francis said cheerfully before delicately picking up his floral mug and casually sipping his coffee.

The cup in Lovino's hand tilted dangerously as he barely avoided dropping it on the ground at the Frenchman's words.

"What?!" He exclaimed. "You perverted bastard", he sneered, placing the cup on the desk with a little more force than necessary. He fixed the Frenchman with his best death glare while trying to resist the urge of strangling him for his utter lack of decency.

" _Calme-toi, mon chéri"_ , Francis said, raising up his hands in surrender. "I did not intend to do anything perverted, _pas du tout_. Nude paintings are the heart of classical art, and I cannot paint if I don't have inspiration and a suitable model!"

"Well, Antonio is _not_ a suitable model for you and you can look for inspiration somewhere else!"

Before Francis could answer him, however, the sound of the front door opening caught both of their attention.

"Antonio, _mon ami!_ " Francis exclaimed, delighted by the Spaniard's appearance as he completely ignored the enraged Italian.

"No. You stay away from him, pervert", Lovino growled, striding determinately towards the brunet as if to show the Frenchman he was ready to interfere in case he tried to lay his hands on Antonio.

"Pervert? Lovino what's wrong?" Antonio's eyes moved from Lovino to Francis and then back to Lovino again, his brows creased in confusion.

"This perverted bastard here wants you to do nude modelling for him", the Italian said through gritted teeth while pointing a slightly trembling finger at the Frenchman.

Antonio took one more look at the Italian, who was fuming with outrage by now, then turned back to Francis again.

"Sorry Francis, but I don't think I can help you with that. Lovino, we were supposed to practice your presentation, right?" The Spaniard reached out to take Lovino's hand and swiftly led him to the bedroom without even stopping to take off his shoes, possibly fearing that the Italian might actually follow his urge of strangling the Frenchman if he took his eyes off him even for a second.

While Antonio carefully closed the bedroom door, Lovino strode straight to the bed and sat down on the edge. He clenched his fists as he tried to regain his composure, but he could still hear the sound of blood rushing in his ears. By now, he was ridded of any remnants of the tiredness he'd been feeling only a while ago, and he hadn't even had the time to drink a single cup of coffee.

"That damn French bastard…" He muttered, but faltered off when a sudden thought hit his mind:

Antonio had been living with Francis as his roommate ever since his freshman year. Did that mean… could that possibly mean that Francis had been asking him for similar favours before? Now that Lovino thought about it, it would have seemed stranger if he hadn't asked him anything weird before, given what kind of a pervert he was, calling everybody his _"chéri"_ and whatnot.

The thought made the Italian's stomach twist painfully as his brows creased into a deep frown. "Antonio… You and Francis, you haven't…?"

"We haven't what Lovino?"

"You haven't _done_ anything, have you?" The anger had mostly left Lovino's body now, leaving him with a sudden feeling of uncertainty that made it difficult for him to properly face the Spaniard.

"Lovino… No! We've never been like that. Lovino, look at me."

The Italian struggled to meet the Spaniard's eyes, still feeling an unpleasant twisting in his stomach.

"We're friends. That's all we've been to each other."

Looking into Antonio's eyes, which were fixed at him in a painfully earnest look, the Italian desperately wanted to believe him. But still, he found it hard to be convinced by the idea that someone as perverted as Francis could ask someone to do nude modelling for him without any ulterior motives.

"But why did he then ask you to…" Lovino asked, keeping his eyes on the Spaniard regardless of the growing sense of discomfort.

"Lovino…" Antonio trailed off, shifting in his spot in front of the door, looking just as uncomfortable as Lovino felt himself. "Look, I did agree to do that a couple of times last year", he started, but raised up his hands in surrender when he saw Lovino's eyes widen dangerously. "But just as a favour for a friend. He's not my type anyway", he added quickly.

"Your type? What's your type, then?"

A small smirk formed on the Spaniard's lips. "Cute, jealous, Italian…"

The brunet was cut off by the pillow that was suddenly flung at his face. He caught it easily, then walked over to the bed where he carefully placed the pillow back on the mattress while giving the Italian's hair a light ruffle.

"Shall we start practising your presentation, then?"

"After you take a shower – you stink", the Italian muttered sulkily, unwilling to let the Spaniard change the topic so easily.

"I do?" Antonio frowned, smelling the front of his shirt. "Fair enough", he shrugged, turning to grab some fresh clothes from the cabinets.

"And stay far away from that pervert!" Lovino added as the Spaniard headed out through the bedroom door.

**xxx**

On the following day, the weather was crisp but clear very much like on the previous Saturday, and Antonio found himself the busiest he'd been ever since his injury.

After his morning practice at the gym, Antonio had had breakfast together with a sleepy and rather grumpy Lovino, who still hadn't been willing to forget the previous day's commotion involving Francis. However, after a few cups of coffee and a lot of persuasion from Antonio, the Italian had eventually agreed to fulfil the promise he'd made on the previous weekend to head to the town centre with the Spaniard to look for some appropriate winter clothes for himself.

However, after visiting a couple of clothes stores and managing to find Lovino a warm jacket, hat and a pair of gloves, the Italian's mood had improved enough for him to allow Antonio to hold his hand with barely any objection as they walked the busy streets to the vegetable store Antonio had used to work at. While the Spaniard had been told by his physiotherapist not to return to his job quite yet, as lifting heavy boxes would put his knee under too much strain, he had wanted to pass by just to say hello to the old shop keeper, as well as to assure him that he should be able to start working again in a week or two.

When the two of them had then returned to the flat, Antonio had found himself unable to leave the bedroom without Lovino following him like a second shadow, as he seemed to fear that Francis would come preying on the Spaniard the moment he took his eyes off him. While the circumstances had made the Spaniard feel like a kid with an overprotective parent, he couldn't say he exactly disliked Lovino's possessive behaviour, for even if it did go a little overboard, it was proof of the Italian's feelings towards him.

As expected of the Frenchman, Francis had hardly seemed to regret being the main culprit to the drama, but instead Antonio had caught him watching the two of them with what could almost be interpreted as a complacent smile on his face. The only person who had offered the Spaniard any sympathy for his current situation had been Matthew, to whom he'd given a rough retelling of the previous day's events and their aftermath before the afternoon's field practice. Alfred, who had eagerly joined in to hear all about the drama in Antonio's personal life, had unsurprisingly found the Spaniard's story to be greatly amusing, which Matthew had promptly scolded him for.

Just being able to see his teammates act like their usual selves, with Alfred with his boisterous laugh and Matthew with his patient disapproval, had made Antonio realize just how much he'd actually missed his friends during all those weeks when he hadn't been attending practice. As he now thought back to the awkward atmosphere that had hung over the three of them during the week after his injury, he felt an immense sense of relief upon finding that things finally seemed to be on their way to getting back to normal.

That relief for starting to regain his usual daily routine and being once again able to enjoy his teammates company had relieved much of the uncertainty and anxiety that had been eating away at Antonio's mind. However, there was one thing that had only recently started to bother the Spaniard: That troubled look that sometimes settled on Lovino's face when he was in deep thought and didn't notice that Antonio was watching. That look was something that the Spaniard had seen for the first time only shortly after they had first got to know each other, but back then he had decided not to give it that much thought, for he had wanted to wait until the Italian felt comfortable sharing his troubles with him.

However, now that the two of them had got closer after everything they'd been through together, the fact that he knew close to nothing about the Italian's past had become impossible for Antonio to ignore. It wasn't that he felt particularly offended for not being trusted by Lovino, for he was familiar enough with the Italian's personality to know that he wasn't the kind of person to openly talk about his emotions or worries. However, the Spaniard couldn't help wanting to know more about the boy who had been there for him when he had been at his weakest, the boy he felt like he knew so well even though he couldn't even tell who he had been living with before coming to college.

Each time Antonio saw that troubled, even pained look cross Lovino's face, he felt a painful sting in his own heart, a desperate need to wipe that look off his face, to be there for the Italian just like the Italian had been there for him. And yet he had always ended up changing the subject whenever he'd hit a sore spot, he'd always been too scared of upsetting the Italian and driving him even deeper into the protective shell he seemed to have built around himself.

However, even though Antonio didn't want to pressure Lovino into doing anything he wasn't comfortable with, he couldn't help but to think that keeping everything to himself couldn't be good for the Italian. It might have been partly because of Antonio's own selfish need to learn more about Lovino, his own selfish need to gain his trust and become someone he could depend on, and yet those needs were becoming harder and harder to ignore.

One thing that encouraged Antonio to talk to Lovino was the memory of how he'd found out about the Italian's worries regarding his presentation: While the other boy had at first been reluctant to tell him about it, he had eventually accepted Antonio's help on the matter. The particular occasion might have been trivial compared to whatever made Lovino so uninclined to talk about his family or past, but nonetheless it had made Antonio feel like he had finally managed to do something for the Italian, who had actually ended up seeming rather grateful for his help.

As Antonio finished brushing his teeth in the evening and headed back to the bedroom, he couldn't quite get rid of the small troubled frown that had persistently settled on his face. As he then opened the door and stepped through the doorway, he found Lovino already in bed, lying on his stomach as his attention was focused on the thick book that was resting on the mattress before him. The Spaniard had noticed that the Italian tended to look unusually at ease whenever he was reading, and this time was no exception.

There was no tension on Lovino's face as his eyes moved from one line to the next at a quick, accustomed pace while one of his slim fingers rested on the edge of the page he was reading. As Antonio watched, the Italian brushed back a few strands of damp auburn hair that had fallen on his face, then leaned his cheek against his palm, all the while keeping his eyes fixed at the book in front of him. The peacefulness of the sight caught the Spaniard in a momentary trance, leaving him unable to take his eyes off the Italian for a few more seconds.

It was only when Antonio made his way to the bed and sat down on the edge that Lovino finally acknowledged his presence, and even then only by a short sideways glance at his direction. Even though there had been a troubled frown on Antonio's face just a moment ago, there was something about the way the Italian was so engrossed in his reading that brought a small smile to the Spaniard's lips.

"Are you planning to finish that book before going to sleep?" he asked jokingly, glancing at the book Lovino was reading. It was massive, probably more than five hundred pages long and filled with small print, and the Italian was only about half-way through it.

The Italian flipped over a page, then slowly shook his head without taking his eyes off the book. "It wouldn't take too long, though", he said in a distracted tone, causing the Spaniard to raise a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

As if he'd sensed Antonio's disbelief, the Italian finally faced the other boy, only to return the look he was being given. "Maybe a couple of hours and I'd be finished." His tone was nonchalant, but there was the tiniest hint of a smug smirk playing on his lips.

Antonio's eyebrows rose even further. "Wow, that's incredible", he said, genuinely impressed by the Italian's estimation.

Lovino must have noted the admiration in his tone, for his brows creased slightly like they often did when he was embarrassed, and a second later he shut the book he was reading. "Not really. I just happen to read a lot so that's why I'm decently fast."

Antonio reached out to gently stroke the Italian's damp hair, which felt cool and silky under his fingers. "That doesn't mean it's not impressive", he said, smiling at the way the other boy gave him an evasive glance and then avoided his eyes again.

"I barely manage to finish the books I need to read for my courses and even then it takes me forever", the Spaniard added with a chuckle as he thought back to his freshman year and how it had taken him weeks to finish the single, not even very long book he'd had to read for his English course. Even as a kid he'd found it hard to sit down and focus on threading through dozens and dozens of pages while there was always something else on his mind, like a new soccer trick he was trying to learn or how he would still have to prepare some food before his mother got back from work.

"You're just like Feli", Lovino muttered with a shake of his head, but Antonio didn't miss the hint of amusement in his voice.

Antonio smiled at Lovino's comment, thinking about how he looked forward to meeting the Italian's younger brother on the Christmas break. But at the same time, the Spaniard was again reminded of the fact that the only family member Lovino had ever talked to him about was his brother. He had never spoken a word about his parents or any other relatives, and the few times when Antonio had asked him something regarding his family or past, the Spaniard had been able to sense the tension that had instantly settled in the room like a physical barrier between the two of them.

Antonio took a moment to consider the situation, deciding that if he wanted to find out something, he would have to be subtle.

"Does no one else in your family like reading except for you?" the Spaniard asked tentatively, aiming for a casual tone.

A few seconds passed in silence, making Antonio feel increasingly anxious as he kept his eyes fixed at his own hands, which were resting on his lap. He knew he had taken the risk willingly when he'd decided to bring up Lovino's family, and yet he was still dreading the pained looked he would have to see on the Italian's face while knowing that it was there because of him. After the silence had stretched on for a few more long seconds, Antonio could no longer take it. He finally gave the other boy a careful glance, bracing himself for the troubled look he was sure he would find settled on his face.

Instead, the Italian's brows were only slightly creased as his fingers fumbled with the corner of the book in front of him. Otherwise there was no tension on his face, and there was only one word Antonio could think of to describe the look in his bright amber eyes that were fixed at the book cover from under his dark, long eyelashes: Wistful. Not guarded or wary or distrusting, but simply wistful. It was a look that made the Italian's features look stunningly beautiful in a delicate and vulnerable way that somehow stung at Antonio's heart more than any other look he had ever seen on his face.

"No one but my mother", Lovino finally said, breaking the silence that had seemed to stretch on for forever. His fingers lay still on top of the book and he barely moved his lips as he spoke, the words coming out quiet and muffled, almost as if he didn't really care whether Antonio heard him or not.

"Your mother?", Antonio asked as a worried frown formed on his face. His earlier anxiety had been replaced by an apprehensive tightness around his chest, but this was by far the furthest he'd got in learning more about Lovino's family, and so he continued carefully: "What kind of a person is she?"

"Was." The response was surprisingly blunt compared to the Italian's earlier quiet tone.

"What?" Antonio found himself asking as he fixed his eyes at the Italian's side profile, the frown on his face growing progressively deeper. The blank expression that had settled on the auburn-haired boy's face made the tightness around the Spaniard's chest become almost painful.

"What kind of a person was she." Lovino repeated Antonio's question in an ominously monotonous tone before finally turning to face the Spaniard. "She's not around anymore. She died."

Antonio felt his heart skip a beat as the combination of the Italian's words and the way his normally so bright eyes were dark with pain and sadness hit him like a slap to the face.

"I'm… I'm so sorry, Lovino", the Spaniard stammered out, unable to think of anything better to say as his mind refused to work properly.

The Italian continued to stare at the book in front of him as he slowly traced his thumb over the cover. His expression was unreadable, although Antonio noticed that he was blinking his eyes more rapidly than usual. After a few seconds had passed in silence, the Italian slowly nodded his head, his brows creasing slightly for the first time in a while. The frown felt almost reassuring to Antonio, for it was an expression he was used to seeing on the Italian's face, an expression that felt comfortingly familiar after that unnerving look of blankness.

After ten more long seconds, during which Antonio tried to shake off the slightly surreal feeling his new discovery had left him with, the Italian suddenly pushed himself into a sitting position and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The movement was so sudden that it startled Antonio, finally breaking him out of his momentary daze.

The Spaniard only caught a quick glimpse of the expression on Lovino's face, but he noticed that while the Italian's eyes glistened slightly under a pair of furrowed eyebrows, they now burned with a firm look of resolution.

"Lovino?"

"I'm going to switch off the lights." The Italian's voice was slightly hoarse but nevertheless held the same determination as the fierce look in his amber eyes.

Antonio blinked at the sudden announcement, then watched as the Italian marched across the room to press the light switch next to the door, making the whole room go pitch black before Antonio had time to fully even realize what was happening.

A few seconds after, Antonio felt a shoulder brush against his own and the mattress sink slightly under Lovino's weight as he climbed back to the bed and lay down behind the Spaniard. It took a few more seconds for the Spaniard's still rather fuzzy mind to catch up, after which he finally followed suit and lay down on his side next to the Italian. It was suddenly very quiet, and even as his eyes started to slowly get accustomed to the darkness, all he could see were the rough outlines of Lovino's back in front of him.

After ten or so seconds of lying in the darkness, the last traces of Antonio's daze finally seemed to wear off. Unable to bear the suffocating sense of tightness around his chest any longer, the Spaniard swallowed the lump he hadn't even noticed had been forming in his throat and wrapped his arms securely around the boy curled up next to him on the narrow bed. Tightening his hold around his waist, he pulled the Italian closer into his chest, nuzzling his face against his warm neck. Even though the Spaniard could first feel the tension in Lovino's muscles, the Italian showed no signs of wanting to escape his hold, and after a while he could feel him slowly start to relax in his arms.

Whatever Antonio had expected to find out about Lovino's family, he had been completely unprepared for what he'd learned just a moment ago. While having some experience on family issues himself, with his father leaving when he was only a kid and his mother worrying him by constantly overworking herself, the Spaniard had thought he would be able to understand what Lovino had been through, at least to some extent. However, to think that the Italian had had to deal with the death of his mother, who had been very close to him if the wistful look on his face was anything to go by…

Merely a month ago, finding out about Lovino's mother and imagining what the Italian must've been through would most likely have left Antonio feeling utterly helpless. He would have found it pathetic that all he could do was hold the Italian in his arms, as there was no way something like that could remove his pain. However, the past weeks had taught the Spaniard that there was no way to simply take away someone's troubles for them, but that it was enough to be there for them, to make sure they wouldn't have to be alone with their pain. A reassuring squeeze of a hand, a comforting embrace; such simple gestures could do much more than Antonio would have ever been able to imagine before.

Antonio nuzzled his face against Lovino's hair, breathing in the faint scent of his shampoo: musky with a hint of the freshness and sweetness of lemon. Yes, he would do all he could to be there for Lovino, just like Lovino had been there for him all this time. That much the Spaniard promised himself as he listened to the sound of the Italian's breathing, which was slow and even except for the occasional small sniff.

Unable to forget about how fragile and vulnerable the other boy had looked before telling him about his mother, Antonio kept his arms protectively wrapped around his slim waist until he eventually drifted off to sleep, reassured by the Italian's warmth next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter, please feel free to tell me your thoughts on it in a comment!


	14. Chapter 14

Antonio stepped out from the locker room, dressed in a pair of college pants, one of his usual practice t-shirts, a pullover and his warm winter jacket to repel the chilly November air.

For the past half an hour, he’d been going through his new rehab exercises with the team’s medic, who had received the instructions directly from the Spaniard’s physiotherapist. After the warmth of the locker room, the air in the open stadium felt harsh and cold, but Antonio barely paid any attention to it as his eyes immediately focused on the field in front of him, where his teammates were gathered around the main coach for some final instructions regarding the new offensive strategy they were about to practice.

None of Antonio’s teammates seemed to even notice his presence, for they were all strictly focused on the strategy board the coach was holding in front of him and occasionally poking with his finger as he spoke. Antonio could have sworn he could feel the focused energy radiate from his teammates even from a distance, a focused energy that bore a new kind of tension that wasn’t usually present in their practices. It made Antonio’s chest feel unpleasantly tight as he continued to observe the scene in front of him a little longer, his hands clutching around the stack of papers in his hands, a printed copy of the new strategy his teammates were about to start practicing.

The feeling of a hand landing on his shoulder and squeezing it lightly made Antonio realize he hadn’t moved from his spot in front of the locker room door.

He glanced at the medic, who was standing by his side only an inch or two shorter than him, but found her eyes to be fixed at the field as well. The Spaniard had come to notice that she wasn’t the kind of person to show many emotions, but he was still able to detect the hint of a thoughtful frown on her face. While Antonio hadn’t talked to her much before his injury, during the past weeks he had come to appreciate the way she always seemed to know when to give him space, and the way she never seemed to say anything she didn’t believe in made her words of reassurance exceptionally convincing.

Antonio had time to briefly wonder what was going on in her mind before she gave his shoulder another light squeeze, gesturing him to follow her to the single row of plastic seats located next to the field and below the stands. As Antonio then sat down on one of the seats and turned his attention back to the field in front of him, on which his teammates were now getting started with their practice, he couldn’t stop the painfully familiar feelings of frustration and impatience from gnawing at his chest.

The Spaniard’s thoughts briefly returned to the locker room, where the medic had just moments ago assured him that he’d been recovering at a promising pace considering the severity of the injury. He had to admit himself that being able to discard his crutches had been an important victory for him, and even though his knee did still feel a little stiff when he walked, partly because of the brace he still had to wear, the fact that he could move around freely did make his daily life a lot easier. And sure, being able to attend his team’s practices even if he couldn’t join his teammates on the field was in many ways better than the feeling of being left out entirely, but still the thought that all he could do was watch from the sidelines and do rehab exercises for who knows how many months to come was hard for him to accept.

Until just recently, Antonio’s impatience to return to the soccer field had simply been due to his own passion for soccer, his own need to be back playing the sport he had loved ever since he was kid. The Spaniard had struggled enough just with the despair and anxiety from having everything he’d worked so hard to build suddenly crumble right before his eyes, leaving him with no other option but to slowly start picking up those pieces and hope they could still be made into something functional and whole. However, recently those feelings had been mixed with a new kind of urgency that emerged not from his own selfish needs, but the realization that it wasn’t only the Spaniard himself who was struggling because of his inability to fulfill his role as a part of the team. 

No, only after the previous day’s morning practice, when he’d seen his teammates for the first time after their match on Sunday, Antonio had properly realized the consequences his absence had on the team as a whole.

The very moment he’d stepped inside the locker room, Antonio had been hit with the dejected atmosphere that hung over his teammates like a dark shadow even in the brightly lit room. Looking at Alfred’s strained smile that faded quickly after appearing as if it was painful to maintain, the frown on Matthew’s face as he tied his shoelaces with unusually stiff fingers, too lost in thought to even greet the Spaniard with a good morning, and a dozen similar faces around him, Antonio had felt a fresh pang of guilt at the thought that it wasn’t anyone else but him who was responsible for the sight in front of him.

He had learned about the outcome of the match already on the day before, even thought it had been an away game and he hadn’t been there to watch it in person. The mere numbers had been enough to make him worried, for the game had ended with neither of the teams scoring any goals, even though the opponent had been one that Antonio’s team had had no trouble beating with a large margin during the previous season. However, seeing his teammates, who knew that dwelling on past matches was a mistake athletes of their level shouldn’t make, look so dejected after a single game was what had really got him alarmed.

And it hadn’t been for no reason, the Spaniard had learned during field practice on the same day, when one of the assistant coaches had shown him recordings from the game: It had only been after seeing for himself how his teammates had played that it had struck Antonio how far the team was from the level they’d been on in the beginning of the season. It wasn’t that the individual players lacked talent, but they had been playing with Antonio as their midfielder since the beginning of the previous season, and even thought it had been five weeks since they’d had to replace the Spaniard, their offensive plays still lacked their usual smoothness and precision.

That evident downturn hadn’t gone unnoticed by a single player on the team, and that was exactly what had hit them so hard: A single draw in the beginning of the season was hardly the end of the world in itself, but the realization that after all their hard work during the summer, which had made them feel like the high hopes they had for this season were completely plausible, they were suddenly back in square one when it came to their team play. That was probably what stung them the most, as their seamless team play had always been one of their most important strengths, the thing that had made them stand out from other teams with highly skilled individual players.

1st place. That had been their goal for this season after losing in the last year’s final, but after seeing the recordings from Sunday’s match, Antonio couldn’t envision his team making it as far as to the quarterfinals unless they stepped up their game big time.

The Spaniard’s eyes fell back to the stack of papers he was still clutching in his hands. He agreed that the only thing that had prevented Sunday’s game from ending up a complete catastrophe for the team was the fact that while their offensive plays had lacked their past smoothness, their defense hadn’t seemed to suffer nearly as much from Antonio’s absence. That was why the coaches’ solution had been to introduce a new offensive strategy that was supposed to boost up the team’s offense and create more scoring opportunities.

Antonio absently leafed through the papers, which he had already studied on the previous evening after receiving them from the team’s main coach before the day’s field practice. While suddenly adopting a new offensive strategy in the middle of the season had its risks, the Spaniard knew that something had to be done if there was even the tiniest chance that it would help the team get closer to the level they’d been on before Antonio’s injury: Even though having a strong defense was obviously important, there was no going around the fact that they couldn’t win games without scoring any goals, and without the ability to tie the game in case the opponent got the lead, even a draw would be difficult against stronger opponents.

Feeling his stomach once again twist with guilt and frustration alike, Antonio tore his eyes off the papers and focused them at the field instead.

Alfred was currently handling the ball, scanning his teammates positions from the center of the field, the position that would have normally belonged to the Spaniard. It was a sight than never ceased to make Antonio’s chest feel strangely empty and yet painfully tight at the same time, as if his whole being ached to be back where it belonged on the soccer field. During the past couple of weeks, he might have grown somewhat better at enduring that feeling and all the anxiety and despair it evoked in him, and yet whenever he let down his guard even for a moment, all those tormenting feelings seemed to break through from where he’d tried to lock them up at the back of his mind.

And whenever that happened, it was too late for Antonio to block the menacing words they kept whispering to him:

_Sure, you keep telling yourself you’ll get better and you’ll get back there one day, no matter what…_

_But what if there’s nothing you can do?_

_What if you’re just struggling in vain this whole time, fighting a battle that’s already been lost?_

_What if you’ll never be able to take back that position and play like you used to?_

Antonio swallowed, trying to push those thoughts back to the far corner of his mind where they’d come from before they would engulf him entirely. Like countless times in the past weeks, he reminded himself that those thoughts wouldn’t do him any good, that no matter how frustrating it was, all he could do for now was hold onto the hope that he would indeed make a full recovery. He reminded himself that things _had_ slowly got better since his surgery, that it wasn’t just wishful thinking from his part, but that his situation _had_ indeed started to look more promising since then.

However, now that it had properly struck him what kind of a state he’d left his team in, he felt like on top of everything else, he’d also failed his teammates: All he could do was watch their struggles and wait, hope that the day when he finally took back his position as a functional part of the team would come.

When the practice finally came to an end, Antonio waited for Alfred and Matthew to get their stuff from the locker room so that they could walk back to the dorm building together. The three of them made their way out from the stadium in silence, with Antonio still unable to push the feelings of guilt off his mind. Those nagging thoughts that refused to leave him alone made it unusually difficult for him to meet his friends’ eyes, even when he could feel Matthew’s attentive look on him. Instead, the Spanaird kept his eyes on the pavement in front of him, which was speckled with paper-thin ice crystals towards the sides, where less people had walked.

When they reached the pathway threading through the campus area, Alfred took a long gulp of his recovery drink – this time one of those mix-in-water powder things he’d filled his bottle with –  and finally broke the silence.

“Guys, I’ve been thinking…” He started, his word choice unusual enough to finally get Antonio to look up from the pavement.

Oblivious to the weird looks both of his friends were giving him, the American paused to stuff the water bottle back in his orange Nike sports bag. Then he returned his attention to the other two, the hint of a grin now tugging at his mouth: “…We should totally have a party at our place this Saturday. It’s been ages since we last had one!”

Antonio blinked as he watched the grin widen on Alfred’s face as he spoke. Whatever the Spaniard had been expecting to hear, the American’s suggestion had managed to catch him unprepared. Of course, something like that should have been expected of the American, and yet during the weeks after his injury and more recently just on the previous day, the Spaniard had grown painfully used to seeing him act nothing like his usual spontaneous and easygoing self.

It might have just been that he desperately needed to feel something else than that heavy sense of guilt and anxiety, or then it was simply because he was relieved to see one of his best friends smile without that unnatural strain, but either way, Antonio slowly felt his own lips spread into a small smile.    

From the corner of his eye, the Spaniard saw Matthew give him another careful glance from his left.

“You know, I don’t think that’s a bad idea at all”, the Canadian said thoughtfully, and Antonio noted that there was a small smile playing on his lips as well.

He might have not said it aloud, but Antonio could still tell what the vice-captain was thinking:

_We could all use the chance to get our minds off everything and have a little fun._

“Awesome!” Alfred exclaimed triumphantly, then proceeded to grab his phone from his back pocket, undoubtedly to inform everyone about the upcoming house party.

“Antonio”, Matthew said, causing Antonio to properly meet his eyes for the first time during their short walk.

“You’re getting rid of your brace next week, aren’t you?” the Canadian inquired, his blue eyes studying the other boy through a pair of rectangular glasses, perceptive yet not intrusive in a way that would have made the Spaniard feel uncomfortable.  

“Next Monday” Antonio answered with a small nod, unsure as to why the Canadian had suddenly decided to ask him about it.

“Huh, really?” Alfred asked from Antonio’s right, raising his look from his phone to give the Spaniard a wide grin. “We can celebrate that on Saturday, then!”

Antonio again felt his lips spread into a smile, and this time it didn’t feel nearly as odd in his face muscles, which he’d apparently been straining through most of the time he’d spent watching his teammates’ practice. He could tell that his friends didn’t want that awkward atmosphere from the weeks after his injury to settle back between the three of them any more than he did, and he felt incredibly grateful for their efforts to repel it, whether they were conscious or instinctive. And not only that, but neither of the two - nor any of his other teammates for that matter - had looked at him like they blamed him, even if he was the one responsible for their struggles.

Those two observations made Antonio suddenly feel very grateful for having friends like them.  

**xxx**

Lovino buried his face in the bedsheets as he rolled onto his stomach, breathing in Antonio’s familiar scent.

It was a mild combination of clean laundry, peppermint shampoo, and something else that the Italian couldn’t quite name but that made him think of sun-kissed fields of ripe tomatoes and sparkling waves washing to the shore under a clear summer sky. After having lived with the Spaniard for weeks now, he had got so used to his scent that it was usually only when Antonio hugged him or kissed him or held him close when they went to bed that he became aware of it, and somehow it made him feel even closer to the Spaniard, for instead of just feeling the warmth of his skin or the softness of his lips, he also felt like he was enveloped in his comforting scent.

It was amazing how the mere scent of someone could make Lovino feel so safe and comfortable, as if just closing his eyes could enable him to feel Antonio’s strong arms close around him in that protective way of theirs, firmly yet not tightly enough to be painful. The thought filled Lovino’s chest with a warm fuzziness that seemed to slowly spread through the rest of his body as he lazily extended his arms and legs, making use of all the space in the narrow bed. If he just concentrated on that calming sense of safety and comfort that Antonio’s scent evoked in him, he could almost feel all his worries and anxieties fade away for a moment, as if they suddenly didn’t seem half as dreadful or significant as he’d thought just a minute ago.

And yet, the Italian thought as he nuzzled his cheek against the mattress, regardless of his ability to soothe Lovino with just his scent, the Spaniard was hardly free of worries and anxieties himself. No, just when Lovino had thought that things were slowly starting to change for the better, he’d walked into the bedroom on Sunday evening to find Antonio sitting on the bed while staring at his phone with that painfully familiar troubled frown back on his face.

The Spaniard had then told Lovino about the outcome of the match his teammates had played that day, and he wouldn’t have even needed to say it out loud for the Italian to figure out what was troubling him: Antonio was blaming himself for the difficult situation his team was in. While Lovino knew that that sort responsibility and commitment were both qualities which made Antonio the person he loved so much, he couldn’t help but to feel frustrated at seeing the Spaniard beat himself up for a situation which he most obviously hadn’t caused intentionally and which he couldn’t do anything about at the moment, no matter how hard he blamed himself.

Antonio had suffered enough as it was; the last thing he needed to do was feel guilty about how his predicament affected other people. That was what worrying about others caused after all: it made any difficult situation even more painful than it already was, as Lovino very well knew from personal experience. And if Antonio thought he was failing in his responsibilities by being unable to help his teammates, what would that make Lovino, who felt like all he’d been doing his whole life was fail any responsibility that fell upon him?

During the year when his mother’s health had slowly crumbled before his eyes and the years after her ultimate death, Lovino had not only suffered from the pain he felt whenever he thought of the times when his family had still been intact, the pain he felt for losing the one person who had ever seemed to understand him. No, as if that hadn’t been enough, he’d also had to listen to his younger brother cry himself to sleep every night for weeks after their mother had passed away, and even after his quiet sobs and sniffs slowly turned into even breaths, Lovino had been kept awake by the idea of the same thing that had happened to his mother happening to Feliciano as well.

Besides Grandpa Roma, all they had had left of their family was each other, and as the older brother, Lovino had felt like his brother’s wellbeing was his responsibility. And yet, the Italian thought with a sting of old guilt and bitterness, someone who couldn’t even take care of himself, someone who couldn’t even keep himself out of trouble for a single day, was hardly fit to look after anyone else. And in addition to that, there had also been the fact that while Lovino had hidden behind his mental defenses and lashed out at anyone who dared to come too close, Feliciano had eventually found his usual cheerful smile and carefree attitude, as if he’d been able to move on.

Yes, ‘as if’ was the key, for Lovino would have had to be an idiot to think that he wasn’t in pain just because there was a smile on his face. Now that he thought about it, Feliciano might have smiled and surrounded himself with people just because he was afraid of being left alone with his thoughts, because that way he could experience happiness at least on some level, even if on the inside he was still in pain. And yet, Lovino thought as feelings of guilt and self-disgust prickled at his chest, whenever he had been reminded of how much cuter and more likable his brother was compared to him, the Italian had let his own selfish feelings of envy and bitterness get the best of him.

Lovino had never truly hated his brother-  no, there was no way in hell he could’ve ever hated Feliciano, and yet in addition to all his other failures, he had also failed in his responsibilities as the older brother.

Lovino stared at the white surface of the wall in front of his face, lost in his thoughts about the past eight years of his life, eight years that had felt like an eternity. But however, he thought as he finally blinked his eyes, causing the blurriness to clear from his vision, those dark years which he had feared would last forever seemed to have finally come to an end. It had been his plan to go to college and finally get to be away from home and all the memories and feelings of loss that very word evoked in him, to try to find his own path and some kind of a purpose and meaning to fill the empty void that was his life.

Thinking back now, Lovino could have never even dreamed of things working out the way they had, he could have never believed that two weeks into the first semester, he would walk into a small store to buy tomatoes and have his life changed in a heartbeat. Even now, the idea of it still made Lovino feel slightly dizzy if he thought about it like that, even though imagining what his life would’ve been like now if he’d never met Antonio made him feel immensely grateful for the fact that things had really worked out the way they had.

For the first time since his mother’s death, Lovino had someone he felt he could trust from the bottom of his heart, someone whose presence made him feel utterly safe and comfortable and who could soothe away his anxieties with just his scent. At first, Lovino had felt inferior to the Spaniard, he’d felt like he couldn’t possibly be good enough for someone like Antonio, who had seemed perfect in every way possible with his eye-catchingly good looks, dazzling smile and exceptional talent in soccer. And yet the Italian had slowly discovered that regardless of everything that made him seem so flawless, in the end the Spaniard had only human too. He’d discovered that Antonio could feel lonely and insecure just like everyone else, that he was someone who needed Lovino just like Lovino needed him.

 That was why he’d let the Spaniard bring down his mental defenses one by one, the defenses he’d been holding up for all those years, scared of baring himself to anyone the same way a wounded wild animal tries to hide its vulnerability. But Antonio was different from everyone else, for even though having his defenses brought down like that did make the Italian feel bare and vulnerable, as long as it was Antonio, it wasn’t really that bad. It might have still been difficult for him to talk about his past, and he still wasn’t used to the feeling of baring himself to someone like that, but as long as Antonio was there to wrap his arms around him and hold him close, Lovino felt like he could slowly get used to it.

In fact, when Lovino had told the Spaniard about his mother on the previous Saturday, he had felt like doing so had taken away a part of the heavy weight that was lying on his shoulders. It had been the first time he’d told anyone about his mother’s death, even if just briefly, and even though a part of him still felt amazed at the fact that he’d actually done it, in that moment it had felt like the right thing to do: After all those years of keeping all his pain bottled up inside of him, Lovino felt like he didn’t have to bear with it alone anymore, for he finally had someone he trusted enough to confide in.

And even now, Lovino didn’t regret his decision one bit, for Antonio hadn’t looked at him pityingly like the distant relatives he had visited as a kid with Feliciano and Grandpa Roma in Italy. While Feliciano probably hadn’t noticed it and just enjoyed having them spoil him, Lovino hadn’t missed the way they’d looked at him and then back to each other again, as if agreeing not to speak of anything that would upset him and cause him to break like some sort of a fragile glass ornament.

Even though the shock had been evident on Antonio’s face when he’d found out about Lovino’s mother, he hadn’t even once looked at him like he was some sort of a living tragedy. No, the way Antonio treated him couldn’t have been further from that shallow pity: While Antonio might have hugged him a little tighter and smothered him with a little more kisses than usual after that night, Lovino had no doubt that the Spaniard still saw him as the same person as before, an actual person who had a name and a future, who was more than just the tragedy in his past.

It was only when Lovino heard the sound of the front door being opened that he finally pushed himself off the mattress he’d been sprawled on, quickly snapping out of his thoughts. After the previous day, when Antonio had come back from practice looking more troubled than the Italian had seen him in weeks, he found himself feeling apprehensive as he waited for the Spaniard to enter the bedroom.

However, when Antonio then pushed open the door and stepped through the doorway, Lovino was relieved to see that the smile on his lips didn’t look all that strained as he laid his eyes on the Italian, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed.

“What’s up, Lovino?” the Spaniard asked before stopping to take off his pullover, revealing the white sports t-shit he was wearing underneath and leaving his wavy brown hair sticking out more than usual.

The Italian shrugged dismissively, his eyes moving to the laptop that sat on the desk to his left, its lid left open from when he had earlier been working on his presentation.

“Nothing, really”, he answered truthfully, “I was just taking a break.”

Antonio, who had also moved his eyes to the laptop, turned his attention back to Lovino as he walked across the room to the bed, where he stopped in front of the Italian and gently ruffled his hair.

“That’s good, sometimes I think you’re pushing yourself a bit too hard”, he said with a small smile, although Lovino could recognize the genuine concern in his voice.

 _As if you should be telling anyone they’re pushing themselves too hard,_ the Italian though as let his eyes fall briefly to his crossed legs.

“Actually”, Antonio said suddenly, as if he’d just thought of a brilliant idea.

Lovino lifted up his gaze, raising a questioning eyebrow at the boy standing in front of him.

“Alfred decided we’re having a party at his place on Saturday, so you should also join in.”

“A party?” Lovino repeated, staring at the Spaniard as if he didn’t quite understand what he was talking about. In fact, while he did know that attending house parties was something that normal college students supposedly did all the time, as someone who had never voluntarily hung out with his classmates in high school, he had never been to one himself.

“Yeah. Now that I think of it, Alfred’s boyfriend is a literature major. I think he could probably tell you some useful tips.”

Lovino blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever actually told Antonio he was planning on majoring in literature, even though that might not have been too hard to guess considering how he was fretting over the public speaking course presentation and how he liked to spend most of his free time reading books. However, the thought that the Spaniard had been thinking about him and his plans still made the Italian’s chest swell with a warm sense of happiness.

Embarrassed by how touched he was by the realization, the Italian quickly tried to think of something less embarrassing to say.

“Is he the one who sucks at cooking?” he asked as he tried to think of when he’d heard Antonio mention Alfred’s boyfriend before.

“Yeah, that’s Arthur”, the Spaniard said with a chuckle.

Looking at Antonio’s smiling face, which was tinted a healthy shade of pink from the time he’d spent watching his teammates practice in the chilly weather outside, Lovino found it hard to imagine that just yesterday that face had been strained by a troubled frown. That, as well as the knowledge that his teammates - who were struggling to get their game together now that Antonio couldn’t play - were planning a party for the next weekend, made Lovino feel amazed at their sheer willpower, their refusal to get discouraged by the hardships that were thrown in their way.

“You’re coming, right?” The Spaniard asked as he combed his fingers through Lovino’s hair in that affectionate way of his, stopping to carefully tuck a few stray strands behind his ear.

Lovino let his gaze drop to his feet again as his brows creased into a small frown. He couldn’t help but to realize how much Antonio resembled his brother with the way he was able to regain that gentle smile of his no matter how many blows life threw at him. And it looked so real, way too real to be nothing but a facade, leaving Lovino wondering how on earth they managed to pull it off like that. Had Lovino just been so much weaker than them all those years he’d spent hiding behind his mental defenses, secluding himself from everyone else and lashing out at anyone who got too close just because he was so scared of getting hurt?

Lovino lifted up his look to once again glance at the Spaniard, who didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get an answer to his question as he continued to gently stroke the Italian’s hair. Lovino had come to notice that for some reason, Antonio seemed to be curiously fond of playing with his hair. It wasn’t like the Italian was complaining though: Although he would have been too embarrassed to ever admit it, it was one of those things that didn’t only have a soothing effect on him, but that also made him feel cherished in a way that filled his chest with that warm and fuzzy feeling that only the Spaniard was able to evoke in him.   

The Italian took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on the question he’d been asked. He thought about how being around large groups of people made him feel anxious, even more so if he was expected to socialize with them, and how he’d never in his life attended a single house party. However, he thought as a determined frown slowly settled on his face, maybe it was time for him to stop being so scared of people, for all that had seemed to do for him in the past was make him miserable. And besides, even if he would have to be around a lot of people he either didn’t know well or at all, he would still have Antonio by his side.

“Fine”, Lovino sighed, looking up at the Spaniard’s face just in time to see his lips spread into a delighted grin.

“I’ll come if it makes you happy.”

Lovino felt Antonio’s fingers slide from his hair to briefly caress his cheek as he continued to smile down at the Italian. The Spaniard’s gentle touch and affectionate look never failed to make Lovino’s heart beat a little faster, but he willed himself not to let his look drop down in embarrassment. Lucky for him, he didn’t have to do that for very long before Antonio bent forward to place a soft kiss on his lips.

It was just a simple kiss, but the way the Spaniard’s lips lingered on the Italian’s a while longer before finally pulling away, and the way his brilliant green eyes were filled with that warm affection, forced Lovino to finally drop down his look as the tips of his ears burned with a familiar heat. The Italian wondered briefly it he would ever stop being overwhelmed by the idea that someone could touch him and look at him like that, with such warmth and adoration that Lovino felt like he would physically melt if he didn’t look away quickly enough.

“It does”, Antonio mumbled softly as he gently traced his fingers over the heated skin on the Italian’s cheek. Then he leaned in again, his warm breath making Lovino’s lips tingle before the Spaniard met them once more in a tender kiss.

The Italian wasn’t sure if there would ever be a day when he’d truly get used to it, but as he leaned into Antonio’s kiss, unable to stop a small smile from forming on his lips, he came to the conclusion that he would gladly wait for as long as it took to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this chapter a day earlier than I originally planned, as I was for once ahead of my schedule and basically got this 'done' a week ago, even though I kept changing some parts until literally minutes before publishing. Honestly, I just can't properly move on to the next chapter if I have the previous one sitting around, since I just keep reading it over and over again to see if there's something I could still do better... 
> 
> Well anyway, I'm finally quite happy with how this turned out, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as well! Do tell me your thoughts on it in a comment, it really does wonders to my motivation! 
> 
> Oh, and one more thing: I ended up removing the total number of chapters entirely, as the chapters end up getting longer than I originally planned and I keep dividing them in two. I'm sorry if that confused somebody!


	15. Chapter 15

The next Saturday, Antonio found himself looking forward to Alfred's party, as it was his chance to direct Lovino's thoughts somewhere else from the approaching day of his presentation: Now that the presentation was less than a week away, Lovino's stress levels had risen to a peak, which meant that it had become difficult for Antonio to get him to leave their flat after he came back from his afternoon classes. However, now that the Italian had already promised to go to the party with him, he had mostly seemed to accept the fact that he wouldn't get to spend the evening in front of his laptop screen like usual – which, as Antonio had tried to convince him, would be good for his health.

Even though Antonio was sure that staying in their flat and worrying about the presentation would only make Lovino even more stressed, he was also aware of the fact that being around a lot of people generally seemed to make the Italian feel uncomfortable. That was why bringing Lovino to the party made Antonio a little worried, even though he promised himself he would stay by the Italian's side the whole time they spent there if necessary.

However, Antonio's worry seemed to have been in vain, for after he'd introduced Lovino to Arthur, the Italian had quickly seemed to lose his initial nervousness. After Arthur had first shared some of his experiences as a literature major, the conversation had moved to Lovino's presentation and books in general. While Antonio had been happy to notice that they had a lot to talk about, after listening to them share their opinions on different books and authors for fifteen minutes, he had started feeling too much like he was in English class and he'd left them to continue their conversation by themselves. The Spaniard had then settled with watching the two of them from across the room while listening to the good-natured argument between a few of his teammates with divided attention.

Lovino was sitting next to Arthur on the living room sofa, wearing a pair of blue jeans with an unbuttoned red plaid shirt over a black t-shirt. The way he moved his hands as he spoke and the wide variety of expression on his face were proof of how engaged he was in the conversation, greatly differing from the stiff pose and wary frown he tended to adopt whenever he felt uncomfortable or insecure. Antonio found it hard to get his eyes off the Italian, who was now eagerly explaining something to the Englishman, who was nodding his head in agreement at whatever it was that he was saying.

There was something captivating about seeing Lovino be so passionate about something, and while Antonio would have liked to be the person talking to him, he knew all too well that he was hardly a good conversation partner when it came to literature – the fact that he'd got bored listening to Lovino and Arthur so quickly was enough to prove that. However, knowing how stressed the Italian had been lately and how reluctant he usually was when it came to talking to people he didn't know, seeing him enjoy Arthur's company nevertheless made the Spaniard feel happy.

"You really love him."

Antonio was brought back from his thoughts by Francis, who had walked up to him while he'd been too caught up looking at Lovino to notice his approach. The Frenchman's statement was spoken in an unusually soft and thoughtful voice, which was enough to catch the Spaniard's attention.

He moved his eyes from the sofa, where Lovino and Arthur were seated, to Francis, noticing that the thoughtful tone in his voice was reflected in his eyes. However, there was a knowing smile playing on his lips as he offered Antonio the cup of punch he'd got from the table.

"I do", Antonio said as he accepted the cup, feelings his own lips spread into a happy smile.

He glanced at Lovino one more time, this time to make sure he wasn't paying attention to the fact that Antonio was talking with Francis. He thought back to the start of the party, when Alfred had announced that Antonio would be getting rid of his brace the next Monday, and how his teammates had offered him pats on the back. However, when Francis had approached him, presumably with the same purpose as the soccer team members, Lovino had immediately moved from where he'd been standing by Antonio's side to position himself between the two of them. He'd growled 'don't even think about it, pervert', as he'd faced the Frenchman with his arms crossed over his chest. However, now the Italian seemed to be too engrossed in his conversation with Arthur to notice whom Antonio was talking with.

When Antonio returned his look to Francis, he found his eyes to be fixed at the sofa as well. However, the Spaniard quickly realized that the Frenchman wasn't looking at Lovino, but at Arthur, and the smile that had previously played on his lips was now gone while his brows were slightly creased in a way that was most untypical to the Frenchman. The look on his face made Antonio think back to how Francis had used to date Arthur during the previous year for a couple of months, which was by far the longest time the Spaniard had seen him date anyone.

However, one Saturday afternoon the Frenchman had come back to their flat and told him he'd broken up with Arthur, and even up to this day, Antonio had never seen him look upset the way he'd done then. After leaving to town for the night, he'd only come back the next afternoon, and from the state he'd been in it hadn't been difficult for the Spaniard to deduce he hadn't been holding back with the alcohol.

Antonio and Francis had always had different opinions when it came to dating, but even though the Frenchman had usually seemed happy going from one lover to the next, his breakup with Arthur had unquestionably been different from usual: From what Antonio had witnessed, he never dwelled on breakups, and usually remained on rather good terms with the people he dated. However, the same hardly applied to Arthur, for even though he didn't know the exact reason as to why they'd broken up, it hadn't been hard to figure that whatever had gone down between the two of them on that one afternoon had been messy. And form the look he'd seen on Francis's face just now, the Spaniard figured he still hadn't completely got over the Englishman.

" _Dis-moi, mon ami…"_ , Francis said thoughtfully, interrupting Antonio's thoughts.

Antonio looked back to the Frenchman, whose eyes were now focused at the kitchen table, where Matthew was choosing a pizza slice for himself while Alfred munched on McDonald's takeaway next to him.

"Hmm?"

"Matthew – he's not going out with anyone, is he?"

"Matthew?" Antonio asked as he raised his eyebrows at the Frenchman. "No, he's not", he said after a short pause, thoughtfully shaking his head as he studied the Frenchman in front of him. The strange frown had disappeared from his face, replaced by a thoughtful look as he studied the Canadian across the room.

Matthew was currently wearing a pair of blue jeans and a white Aran sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a pair of toned forearms. His wavy blond hair was parted from the middle and framed his structured face on both sides, and behind a pair of rectangular glasses, the look in his blue eyes was at the same time polite and observant. It was probably because of his quiet and placid character and the fact that he greatly resembled Alfred appearance-wise that people often either confused him for the American or simply knew him as his look-alike. However, as Antonio now studied the Canadian across the room, he didn't find it hard to understand why someone would lay their eyes on him.

The Spaniard took a sip from his cup of punch, thoughtfully watching as Francis headed across the room to talk to the Canadian. Now that he thought about it, it might have been precisely because of his calm demeanor that Francis would be interested in Matthew, who greatly differed from the people Antonio had seen him date so far. He wasn't sure what exactly was going on with the Frenchman, but the fact that he had chosen Matthew out of all the people at the party told the Spaniard that this time he was looking for something else than his usual affair.

Antonio was brought back from his thoughts as he saw Alfred try to offer Francis a hamburger as the Frenchman reached the kitchen table, where Matthew was still accompanied by the American. As he watched Francis politely decline the snack he was being offered, the Spaniard decided that it was a good time for him to do his friend a favor and head across the room to keep company to Alfred.

**xxx**

It seemed that it wasn't only the members of the soccer team who wanted to make full use of the chance to get their mind off everything else and just enjoy themselves for once. That might have had something to do with the fact that everybody had exams coming up before the Christmas break, in just about a week, not to mention the deadlines for written assignments that always had the tendency to pile up before holidays.

It was just about two hours into the party when Alfred decided that it was time for him to turn up the volume of his speakers and start showing off his dance moves. The American hardly minded the limited space in the crowded room as he took the center of it to himself and started dancing to 'U Can't Touch This' while everyone else settled with watching him from the sidelines. Having enough experience on Alfred's dancing skills – especially in the cases when the American had already had his fair share of alcohol – Antonio merely smiled in amusement as he took a sip from his own cup of punch, then turned his attention to scanning the other people in the room.

Francis was chatting with Matthew across the room from where Antonio was sitting at the kitchen table, and the Spaniard was surprised to note that he didn't seem to be hitting on the Canadian the way he usually did when someone caught his attention at a party: While the Frenchman's typical way of talking was already more or less flirtatious, that was as far as he was going at the moment, even though he had asked Antonio if Matthew was dating anyone before going to talk to the Canadian.

Antonio found himself observing the two of them for a while longer, as if trying to deduce what they were talking about even though that was most obviously impossible considering the noise level in the room and the fact that the Spaniard couldn't do lip-reading. However, while the topic of their chat remained a mystery to Antonio, he noticed that Matthew seemed to be having a good time, for his normal composed demeanor had been momentarily replaced by a much more carefree air, and when he laughed at something Francis had said, the grin on his face bore startling resemblance to Alfred.

Giving his two best friends, whom he had rarely seen together like that, one more thoughtful look, Antonio let his eyes wander to the sofa, which was located next to the wall to his right. It was still occupied by Lovino and Arthur, the latter of whom had his hand covering half of his face, presumably from the embarrassment of watching his boyfriend's drunken dance moves, which were evoking amused reactions in most people around the room. Of course, the audience's attention only worked as additional encouragement for the American, who was now wiggling his butt to the beat of 'Shake it Off'.

Antonio felt a mixture of amusement and sympathy as his eyes returned to Arthur, whose right hand remained partly covering his face while he explained something to the Italian beside him, emphasizing his words by waving around with his left hand, in which he was holding a cup of punch. Antonio couldn't see either of their faces properly from where he was sitting, but he doubted they were still having an intellectual conversation about literature amid all the noise and drunk people. With that thought in his mind, Antonio stood up from his seat, briefly stepping aside to avoid bumping into one of his teammates, who approached the table most likely in search for more drinks, and finally made his way to the sofa.

Lovino was too caught up in listening to whatever Arthur was talking about to notice Antonio's approach, which allowed the Spaniard to get a proper look at his face before he reached the two of them. The Italian had one of his eyebrows raised as he kept his eyes on the Englishman, who currently seemed to be pointing at Alfred with his cup. As Antonio got closer to the sofa, he started to distinguish individual words from Arthur's speech, and found that he had been correct in deducing that they were no longer talking about their favorite classics in English literature.

After managing to make out the words 'Captain America' and 'in bed', Antonio stopped to watch as Lovino first stared unblinkingly at the Englishman, one of his eyebrows still raised in a look of disbelief, and then, without any warning, the Italian burst into laughter. It wasn't like Antonio had never seen Lovino laugh before, but this was an entirely different type of laughter compared to anything the Spaniard had ever witnessed so far: It was an uncontrollable fit of giggling that lacked any of that usual restraint that normally ensured he would never laugh too loudly or too spontaneously. All Antonio could do was stand there and watch as Lovino doubled over with laughter while Arthur patted him on the back with a slightly embarrassed smile on his face.

Even after getting over his initial state of surprise, Antonio couldn't help but to stare at Lovino as he struggled to catch his breath and compose himself on the sofa. Even though the Spaniard could tell that the Italian had become much more comfortable around him by now compared to when they'd first got to know each other, he never ceased to discover new sides of him that managed to catch him completely off guard. The way Lovino had marched up to him and pulled him down for a kiss when he'd doubted himself and feared that the Italian would find him pitiful because of his injury had been one of those times, and now, seeing the Italian act in such a spontaneous and unconstrained way made him feel like he'd made yet another important discovery.

While Antonio was unable to tear his eyes off him, Lovino finally managed to compose himself enough to get himself back into a proper sitting position from where he'd been doubled over from laughter. However, as he watched him sway slightly and grab Arthur's shoulder to steady himself, clearly having trouble regaining his bearings, the Spaniard finally got his thoughts back together. He finally got to the obvious conclusion about the reason for Lovino's unusual behavior: He was really drunk. The realization made Antonio mentally kick himself for not paying proper attention to how much the Italian had been drinking – this was his first college party after all, so obviously Antonio should've made sure to tell him to be careful with the alcohol.

With this thought in his mind, Antonio finally walked up to the sofa, finally catching Lovino and Arthur's attention. Standing above the Italian, Antonio could really see the way his cheeks were tinted pink and the way his beautiful auburn hair was falling on his face and sticking out more than usual from when he had been doubled over with laughter. While the sight was both adorable and somehow enthralling at the same time, Antonio felt responsible for the state the Italian was in, and quickly decided that it was their time to leave the party.

"Lovino", he said, reaching out to carefully brush some of the stray strands of hair off the Italian's face. "I think we should go home."

The Italian took a moment to properly focus his eyes on the Spaniard. "Why?" He asked, frowning at the other boy as if he couldn't quite understand why he would make such a suggestion.

"I think you've had enough drinks", Antonio said, raising his eyebrows at the Italian.

"What do you mean?" Lovino asked as his frown deepened, drawing out his words in a way that only proved Antonio's point.

"You're drunk, Lovino", he said, aiming for an emphatic tone even as the adorable, childish pout on the Italian's face brought a small smile to his lips.

"Drunk?" Lovino folded his arms as if offended by Antonio's claim, letting himself fall back against the backrest of the sofa. "I'm not drunk."

That was when a small cough from his left made Antonio turn his look to Arthur, who had been following their argument from where he was sitting next to Lovino.

"I think he might be right, Lovino", the Englishman said, eyeing the Italian with a small frown, as if he'd just now noticed how drunk he really was.

Antonio gave Arthur a thankful glance before turning his eyes back to Lovino, who was scowling at the Englishman with his arms still crossed over his chest in silent protest.

"Fine, you bastards…" The Italian finally muttered as he fixed his eyes at Antonio, grudgingly letting him help him up from the sofa. However, after getting on his feet, the Italian didn't object when the Spaniard wrapped an arm around his waist to stop him from reeling, and even took hold of the Spaniard's back himself, leaning against his side for additional support.

Antonio briefly apologized to Arthur and wished him good night, then headed directly to the front door while making sure Lovino didn't topple over. As the two of them made their way to their flat, which was luckily on the same floor as Alfred and Matthew's, the Spaniard was suddenly very thankful for the fact that he hadn't been drinking too much himself: He highly doubted the Italian would have been able to make it to the correct flat unaided, given the fact that Antonio had to keep his arm firmly wrapped around his waist just to keep him on his feet.

When they finally made it to their flat, Antonio only stopped to switch on the lights and kick off his own shoes before guiding Lovino to the bedroom. He sat the Italian on the bed before sitting down himself and bending down to take off the other boy's shoes for him. However, when he straightened himself upright again, he found the smaller boy's eyes to be intently fixed at him, and even though the room was nearly dark as the only light came through the open doorway, he could see the fervent look that lit up the Italian's eyes.

"Lovino…?" Antonio asked carefully, surprised by the intensity of the look that was being fixed at him.

The Italian didn't say anything, just reached out to wrap one of his arms around Antonio's neck, promptly doing the same with his other arm and leaning in until his face was only inches away from the Spaniard's. Under his long eyelashes, his eyes were now fixed at Antonio's lips, and even though the fervency was still there, the Spaniard noted that his usually so vigilant look was clouded by a fuzziness he'd never seen there before.

However, as soon as Antonio had made that observation, his thoughts were disrupted by the Italian, who closed the remaining space between them and met his lips in a kiss that he quickly deepened by slipping in his tongue. For a while, all Antonio seemed to be able to think of was the slight burn of alcohol mixed with the sweet, fruity flavor of the punch as the Italian kissed him thoroughly yet unusually sloppily at the same time, pressing his upper body against the Spaniard's until there wasn't an inch of space separating the two of them. Those sensations were enough to make Antonio's head go blank for a moment, leaving him unable to form a single rational thought in his mind as he neither rejected nor returned the kiss.

The two of them had exchanged countless of kisses during the past few months they'd been together: long kisses, brief kisses, kisses of longing, reassurance and simple affection, and yet this was completely different from any of those times. The Italian's kiss held the kind of fervent impatience that made Antonio's heart race in his chest while he was too distracted to even notice it himself, unable to feel anything but the Italian's touch and the way it made his nerves tingle as if on fire.

He could feel Lovino's chest press against his own as the Italian pulled him down with his arms, which were still wrapped around his neck without any intentions of letting go. He could feel the warmth of the Italian's heated skin whenever his chin or nose brushed against his and the way his silky auburn hair, which had again become a mess, fell on his face and tickled his skin. And of course, he could feel the wet warmth of the Italian's tongue against his own and the hotness of his breath in his mouth. All those sensations, as well as the knowledge that it had been the Italian who had initiated the kiss with such straightforwardness, made Antonio want to wrap his own arms around the Italian and kiss him back with just as much passion as he was now being kissed with.

Even the slight burn of alcohol on Lovino's tongue only seemed to add to the way Antonio's body tingled from his touch, and yet something at the back of his dazed mind persistently told him to get back to his senses and take control of the situation before he got too carried away and lost all control of his actions. No matter how much Antonio would have liked to just let himself get caught up in the moment, the sensible part of his mind knew that it wasn't the right thing to do: Out of the two of them, the Spaniard was without a doubt more in his right mind at the moment, which made it his responsibility to make sure that neither of them did something they would later come to regret.

Once that thought had properly formed in Antonio's hazy mind, he finally managed to force himself to break out of his momentary daze. He gently brought his hand to Lovino's chin, finally breaking out of the kiss while soothingly tracing his thumb along the Italian's jawline. He could see the other boy's brows crease in frustration as he kept his eyes focused on Antonio's lips from under the strands of auburn hair that had fallen on his flushed face. He was still close enough for Antonio to feel the rapid rising and falling of his chest against his own as his warm breath, which escaped his parted lips in heavy puffs, tickled his neck. The Italian's arms were still locked around Antonio's neck, as much to keep himself upright as to keep the Spaniard still.

Antonio swallowed, briefly closing his eyes as he focused on getting his own rapid heartbeat to calm down. Then he gently took hold of Lovino's waist with both of his hands, slowly laying him down onto the mattress and causing him to finally release his arms from around his neck. After standing up to lift the Italian's legs onto the bed and carefully tucking him inside the covers and adjusting his pillow, the Spaniard again sat down on the edge of the bed, pausing to gently brush the stray strands of hair off the other boy's face.

The expression on the Italian's face was now mostly just sleepy rather than displeased, as if he'd just used up all of his remaining energy. Looking into his beautiful amber eyes, which seemed to have trouble properly focusing on him, Antonio felt immense relief for being able to get his mind together just a moment ago. Given the state the Italian was in, he was by no means able to think about his actions, and Antonio was quite sure he wouldn't be able to remember anything about what had just happened in the morning.

"Go to sleep, Lovino", the Spaniard said quietly, bending down to gently kiss the smaller boy on the forehead. "I'll just get changed and then I'll be back."

However, when Antonio was about to stand up from where he'd been sitting on the edge of the bed, he could feel Lovino's hand suddenly close around his wrist.

"Don't go, Antonio…" The Italian mumbled in a sleepy voice that had a slightly hoarse, almost panicked edge to it. Antonio's heart wrung painfully as his eyes fell to the other boy's hand, which was gripping his wrist with unexpected force considering the state he was in.

The Spaniard brought his free hand to soothingly trace his fingers over Lovino's knuckles. Compared to his flushed face, the warm olive skin on the Italian's hand looked almost pale in the nearly dark room, and underneath Antonio could feel the tension in his muscles and tendons. It was only after he was convinced that the Spaniard wasn't about to go anywhere that Lovino finally started to relax his hand, although he still didn't let go of Antonio's wrist.

The Spaniard bent down his head to place a soft kiss on top of the Italian's hand. When he then finally turned his look to his face, he saw him looking at him with half-closed eyes, with the hint of a smile playing on his lips. The look in his eyes made Antonio's chest ache like he' just been knocked out of air, reminding him of the night when he'd found out about Lovino's mother and the heartbreaking look he'd then seen in his eyes. It wasn't the same look now, however, for even though it was filled with deep, unspoken emotion, part of that emotion was unmistakable happiness mixed with what Antonio could only describe as relief or even gratitude.

Being looked at like that made Antonio's aching chest swell with an overwhelming feeling of affection towards the Italian, for even though he didn't know what exactly Lovino had been through and what exactly he meant with that look, there were no words needed to express the emotion it conveyed. Antonio swallowed, forcing himself to break out of his momentary daze. Then he gave the other boy a small smile, bringing his free hand to soothingly stroke his silky auburn hair.

Only a minute later, the Italian's drooping eyes fluttered shut as he drifted off to sleep, but the Spaniard remained sitting there for a while longer, unable to get the look he'd just seen on Lovino's face off his mind.

**xxx**

Lovino's hands felt sweaty as he leaned forward on the auditorium bench, resting his forearms on the desk in front of him as he fixed his eyes at the boy standing in front of the large screen at the front of the room. He was tall with an athletic build and blond hair that looked like it had been sleeked back but that still persistently stuck out at the front. As Lovino watched, he gestured energetically at the screen behind him with his remote, all the while managing to face his audience as he spoke in a strong and self-confident voice. He looked like he was hardly feeling any nervousness, and even if he was, there was nothing in his body language or way of speech that would've given him away.

Just watching the boy whom he only knew as one of the other students from the course perform with such ease made Lovino feel a nagging sense of frustration at his own pitifulness. Why was it that just the thought of walking up to the front of the class himself made the Italian feel nauseous with anxiety, when it according to all sense shouldn't have been such a big deal? No matter how many times he had went through his whole presentation in front of Antonio, and no matter how many times the Spaniard had told him that he'd never even known it was possible to plan something so thoroughly and that there was no way he wouldn't do brilliantly, Lovino just couldn't help but to dread the moment when he would actually have to present it in front of the class.

However, regardless of all his anxiety and nervousness, Lovino couldn't deny the fact that during the previous weeks, he had been determinately working towards some sort of a goal of his own for probably the first time in his life. It had been that sense of purpose that he had been missing his whole life up until now, the feeling that he was actually trying to make something of his own life instead of just aimlessly drifting around. He was finally doing something to become someone who could proudly stand by Antonio's side as he struggled to overcome the setback his own future had faced.

Lovino would continue to be there for the Spaniard, just like the Spaniard had been there for him during the weeks he had been stressing over his presentation. The Italian knew that Antonio had always done his best to understand him, even if there was no way for people like Antonio and Feliciano, who seemed perfectly fine talking to people and being in the center of everyone's attention, to understand what it was like for him. The same way as the boy who was currently giving his presentation at the front of the class, Antonio hadn't looked at all fazed by the sheer number of people who had cheered for him when he'd ran to the soccer field for the first match of the season.

Lovino found it hard to believe that it could've been just a matter of experience, for he doubted any amount of experience would make him get used to having so much attention focused solely on him. All he could hope for was that the people in his course were at least a little more mature than his old classmates in high school. However, while he had only been known as an awkward loner with a bad temper during his high school times, now everybody probably knew that he was dating Antonio, who wasn't only popular for his position in the soccer team, but also for his good looks. While Lovino didn't regret letting Antonio hold his hand in public, as the fact that the Spaniard was so keen to do so proved that he wasn't embarrassed to let everyone know that they were together, the Italian had received some rather nasty looks from several people who were probably jealous of him.

While this was definitely the best reason he'd ever received nasty looks for, Lovino couldn't help but to look around himself in the small auditorium as he wondered how many of the people there resented him for taking Antonio to himself.

Even though Lovino found some of the presentation topics to be rather interesting, he could hardly follow what each presenter was saying as he shifted uneasily on the edge of his seat, wondering if the bench had always felt as uncomfortable to sit on as it did now. He found himself repeating the opening line of his presentation over and over again in his head while his eyes skimmed over his notes and then returned back to the front of the room again as he waited for the current speaker – this time an Asian girl with long, brown hair and a pink flower ornament on both sides of her head - to finish and the professor to call out the next name.

Unable to focus on anything for longer than a couple of seconds, Lovino's busy thoughts returned to the previous Saturday and the party he'd attended with Antonio. Funnily enough, all he remembered about the night was his chat with Arthur, the third-year literature major whom Antonio had introduced him to. The Italian was still rather amazed about how easy it had been for him to talk to the Englishman, even though he'd only just met him for the first time. And not only had it been surprisingly nice to talk to someone who shared similar interests with him, but hearing from a senior literature student that his presentation topic was interesting had made him feel at least a little more confident about his presentation.

Lovino's brows creased into a small frown as he stared at the notebook lying in front of him on the desk. If the thought of his chat with Arthur had had a somewhat reassuring effect on him, the thought of when he'd woken up the next morning after the party only worked to worsen his nausea. He hadn't even thought he'd been drinking all that much, and yet in the morning, he had quickly realized he'd made a mistake. He had been feeling too horrible to even tell Antonio not to fuss over him, instead gladly accepting the glass of water and painkillers the Spaniard had brought him, and later on even letting him practically feed him breakfast in bed.

Even though he'd been feeling like hell back then, Lovino could hardly say that he hated having Antonio take care of him like that. Even now, as the Italian turned his eyes back to the front of the room, once again wondering if his turn would be next, he couldn't help but to think how much better he would've felt if Antonio had been there by his side. Just feeling the Spaniard's strong arm around his waist or his warm fingers laced together with his would have made the wait so much more bearable, even though the Italian knew that in the end, he would have to stand at the front of the room by himself.

However, Lovino thought as he tried to shake the thought off his mind, he didn't want to be so dependent on the Spaniard that he became incapable of doing anything by himself. Antonio had been there for him when he'd been practicing for his presentation, and he'd been there to hug him and give him at least five good luck kisses before he'd left the flat in the morning, but now it was time for Lovino to finally get his dreaded presentation over with, and he would have to do that by himself. Besides, the Italian thought as he bit his teeth together and clenched his fists on the desk in front of him, if he did end up screwing up and making a fool out of himself, at least Antonio wouldn't be there to see it.

"Thank you", the professor in charge of the course said from the front of the auditorium, where the long-haired girl had just finished her presentation while Lovino had been too busy sweating over his own turn to pay attention. However, the next sentence spoken by the professor hit the Italian like an electric shock that he had been bracing himself for the whole time.

"The next presentation will be delivered by Lovino Vargas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please tell me if you did (or didn't) in the comments - even a few words of feedback means more than you could possibly imagine! (except if you're an author as well, then you probably can)
> 
> Anyway, thank you for continuing to read my story and an extra big thank you to everyone who's left a comment or kudos - I'll do my best to be back with a new chapter in another three weeks!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: This chapter contains sexual themes, although no explicit content is included to keep the story suitable for the rating T.

* * *

As Antonio stood in front of the bathroom mirror after having finished brushing his teeth on Friday night, he was faced with the same smile that had been persistently reappearing on his lips for the past evening. It wasn't so much the kind of a smile that appeared in a moment's elation or amusement, but one that came from a much deeper sense of contentment and peace of mind.

On Monday of the same week, Antonio had again visited his physiotherapist, who had performed yet another check-up on him and concluded that he could indeed discard his brace, as long as he kept being careful not to exert his knee too much. That, as well as having finally returned to his part-time job at the vegetable shop had again brought the Spaniard one step closer to his normal daily life, which had given him a new sense of reassurance about the progress he was making in recovering from his injury.

In addition to that, Antonio had just a couple of hours ago come back from watching his team's last field practice before their next match, which would take place at their home stadium in just two days. While he had two weeks ago been worried about the state he had left his team in, the new offensive strategy they'd been practicing had proved effective in helping the team get their offense together. While the Spaniard knew that they were still far from the level they'd been on when they'd prepared for their first match of the season, he could now once again recognize them as the same team that he'd won silver with in the last year's league.

This observation didn't only alleviate Antonio's guilt and make him feel relieved for his team's sake, but knowing how hard his teammates had worked during the past two weeks after the away game that had hit them so hard made the Spaniard feel immensely proud of every single one of his teammates. Witnessing the determination with which they struggled to adapt to their current situation after having such high hopes for the season somehow gave Antonio strength in his own struggles: Just like his teammates refused to give up regardless of the disappointment and frustration that each of them must have been feeling, the Spaniard would have to keep believing in his own recovery and do his best to join them on the field as soon as he could.

Getting rid of his brace and witnessing the progress his team had made were both things that had given Antonio's troubled mind a new sense of optimism and reassurance. However, he thought as he finally headed back to the bedroom where Lovino was already waiting for him on the bed, there was one more thing that filled his chest with a warm sense of happiness and pride. It was the smile that tugged at the Italian's lips as he turned to look at Antonio from where he was lying on his stomach with a book laid out on the mattress in front of him.

There was something very special about that smile, as Antonio had noted the moment when Lovino had got over his initial shock after returning from the auditorium where he'd given his presentation: It was a smile that regardless of the Italian's obvious attempts to contain his facial expressions had the power to make his amber eyes light up with a sense of pride and contentment that Antonio had never seen in them before.

Feeling his own lips spread into a happy smile, Antonio made his way to the bed and sat down on the edge, reaching out to carefully run his fingers through the auburn hair on top of Lovino's head. The Spaniard couldn't imagine ever getting tired of the silky feeling of the Italian's hair under his fingers, a feeling that was so reassuring in its familiarity and yet never ceases to mesmerize him at the same time. Almost reluctantly, Antonio slid his fingers down from Lovino's hair, instead resting his hand on his shoulder while leaning in to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

That caught Lovino's attention enough to get him to lift his look from the book in front of him and face the Spaniard, whose face was still only inches apart from his. The Italian still looked like he was trying to contain his smile even as the lively sparkle in his eyes gave him away. He didn't attempt to avert Antonio's eyes, instead meeting them from under his eyelashes, tilting his head slightly to the side in a questioning manner. Something about that look was different from before, as if part of the Italian's guarded demeanor had disappeared to reveal a new, more relaxed and self-assured Lovino.

Antonio couldn't help but to wonder if it was just the momentary relief that had followed the weeks of stress and anticipation leading up to the presentation, or if there was something more to the sudden change in the Italian's demeanor. While he had always found Lovino's guarded frowns and evasive glances endearing in their own way, for they were the kind of Lovino the Spaniard had first fallen in love with, seeing the Italian look so at ease made him wonder if he had come closer to resolving the inner conflict that had all too often brought that troubled look on his face.

"What is it?" Lovino asked, making Antonio break out from his thoughts.

The Italian's brows were creased in a questioning frown as he studied the Spaniard's face from under his dark eyelashes. His bright amber eyes reminded Antonio of the sunset he'd sometimes stayed behind to watch after a long day of playing soccer on the worn-out piece of tarmac in his home village, when all the other kids had already gone home. He could still remember the feeling of the warm tarmac under his bare hands and legs, warm but already cooled down since the hot hours of the day, and the sting of the occasional pebble pressing into his skin. Sometimes, the sunset had been that kind of a soft orange, like molten amber, while the last golden sunrays had glimmered from behind the dark silhouettes of the one or two floor high village houses.

"Nothing", Antonio said slowly even as he was unable to stop a nostalgic smile from forming on his lips. Then he shook the old memory off his mind, instead closing the short distance between the two of them and tilting his head to capture the Italian's lips in a gentle kiss.

The Spaniard could feel the smile that formed on Lovino's lips, accompanied by a small sigh that hit Antonio's mouth as a breeze of warm air that had the faint scent of mint-flavored toothpaste to it. Closing his hand around the Italian's slim shoulder, Antonio gently pulled the other boy closer to himself, placing a couple more soft kisses on his lips, kisses that were at the same time light and yet kept lingering on the Italian's lips, reluctant to let go.

"I'm so proud of you", he mumbled softly before pressing a final kiss on the delicate tip of the Italian's nose.

Antonio pulled back just in time to see Lovino's eyes flutter open, and regardless of the smile that was still lingering on his lips, this time he kept his eyes fixed down instead of meeting Antonio's look. While the Spaniard didn't get that feeling of a mental barrier being laid out between him and the Italian like he'd often done before, he could nevertheless detect a hint of a blush appearing on the other boy's face. He recognized the sight from all those instances when he'd complimented Lovino before, the sight that told him that the Italian still didn't really know how to react to being praised.

Smiling at the Italian's adorable reaction, Antonio finally moved from his spot on the edge of the bed to lie down on his side, promptly throwing one of his arms over the Italian's shoulders and slipping the other one under his chest. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Lovino's neck, simply enjoying the feeling of intimacy and the memories of all those times when he'd held him like that, fallen asleep with the Italian's warmth next to him and his arms wrapped securely around him to keep him close. Feeling his chest swell with an overwhelming sense of affection towards the Italian, Antonio breathed in his familiar scent, letting his hand once again wander to his hair, where it made its way from the back of his head all the way to that peculiar curl that never seemed to lie flat.

When Antonio finally lifted up his head to face Lovino, he found the Italian looking at him from the corner of his eye as he rested his hand on the cover of the book he'd been reading earlier.

"Am I disturbing your reading?" Antonio asked as he continued to thread his fingers through the Italian's silky hair, letting his eyes wander from his downwards gaze to the slight tint of pink that still remained on his cheeks and finally to the fine shape of his lips.

"Anybody would be disturbed by being looked at like that", Lovino grumbled, lifting up his head to raise one of his eyebrows at the Spaniard.

"Like what?" Antonio asked, moving his hand from the Italian's hair to gently caress his cheek while smiling at the way the tint of pink was getting darker under his touch.

"Like that!" Lovino groaned in exasperation, trying to avoid the Spaniard's eyes as he slowly ran his fingers over the Italian's jawline. "Like you're looking at me right now."

"Really?", Antonio asked innocently, raising his brows at the Italian's accusation. "But that's just because…" he said slowly, letting a small smirk form on his lips as he leaned in again until his mouth was barely an inch away from Lovino's ear, "I love you". His voice was only a soft whisper, and having his hand still cupping the Italian's cheek, he could feel the way he shivered at the feel of his breath against his ear and neck.

"You bastard…" Lovino muttered, although there was no real anger in his voice. "You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm doing it on purpose", Antonio said as he carefully lifted up the Italian's chin and once again met his lips in a gentle kiss. "I mean it, Lovino", he mumbled against the other boy's lips while adoringly tracing his thumb over the heated skin on his cheek.

He could feel Lovino let out small sigh again, although he wasn't sure whether it was in frustration or in resignation. However, the Italian showed no signs of protest when he joined their lips back together, closing his eyes as he revered in the feeling of Lovino's soft lips against his own, thinking about how _good_ it felt to touch the Italian like that. And yet at the same time, he wanted more, he wanted to feel the Italian even closer to himself, until there was nothing separating the two of them.

The Spaniard let his hand slide from Lovino's cheek to his hair, taking his lower lip between his own lips, finally slipping his tongue past the Italian's parted lips. His left hand buried itself deeper into the silky hair at the back of the other boy's head while he wrapped his right arm properly around his chest, pulling him closer to himself. He tilted his head to gain better access to the wet warmth of the Italian's mouth, venturing deeper with his tongue before softly nibbling at his lower lip.

That earned another soft sigh from Lovino, who seemed to have completely forgotten about his earlier annoyance as he leaned into his touch, moving the hand that had previously been resting on the book to the Spaniard's neck and finally burying his fingers in the hair at the back of his head.

Antonio kissed Lovino deep and slow, letting everything else in his mind blur together until all he could think of was the Italian's warm, faintly mint-scented breath against his mouth and the way his tongue intertwined with his, sending a tingling sensation through his whole body. The Italian seemed to be enjoying it as well, for at some point, the Spaniard felt his fingers tighten their hold on his hair, as if to make sure he wouldn't suddenly decide to get up and leave.

Not that such a thought would have even crossed Antonio's mind at the moment, when all he could think of was Lovino and the way his touch made his nerves feel like they were slowly being lit up like a kindling fire. At the same time, he wanted the moment to never end, he wanted those blissful sensations to last forever, and at the same time he could feel his body growing hotter after each second that passed, he wanted to taste and feel and hear even more of Lovino, he wanted to uncover sides of him that he'd only got a glimpse of before, after the party on the previous Saturday.

Back then, any bashfulness that the Italian normally possessed had been ridded by the alcohol he'd had at the party, and he'd completely caught the Spaniard by surprise by taking the initiative to kiss him in such a passionate way. The Spaniard could still remember the sloppiness of the kiss and the sweet taste of fruit punch on his tongue, and most importantly, he could remember the sheer amount of self-control it had taken him to get a grip of himself and take control of the situation before it got out of hand.

Now, however, Lovino wasn't intoxicated by alcohol, and yet he was still eagerly responding to Antonio's kiss, leaning into his touch as his fingers lightly tugged at his hair to pull him closer. Encouraged by that thought, the Spaniard wrapped both of his arms securely around the Italian's waist, pausing the kiss only to pull the smaller boy on top of himself as he rolled onto his back. That earned a surprised grunt from Lovino, whose half-lidded eyes were fixed at the Spaniard from above as he caught his breath, his olive face flushed in a deep shade of pink under the loose strands of auburn hair that hung over his eyes.

That sight, which Antonio could only describe as enthralling, as well as the new feeling of the Italian's whole body pressing against his own made the Spaniard's heartbeat speed up in his chest, filling his tingling body with a new sense of impatience. After once again burying his hand in Lovino's hair, Antonio gently pulled the Italian's head closer, only placing a chaste kiss on his lips before moving onto trailing kisses down his jawline before finally reaching his neck. He pressed a tentative kiss on the olive skin just above the collar of the loose t-shirt that the Italian was wearing, then paused to lick his lips before returning his mouth to the same spot and lightly sucking on the soft skin.

As an immediate response, the Italian drew in a sharp breath, tightening his grip on the Spaniard's hair as he pressed his face against his shoulder. Antonio could feel the shivers that ran through the smaller boy's body at the new sensation, which only added to the excitement that the Spaniard was feeling, the urge to see what kind of different reactions he could draw out from the Italian. However, at the same time, he feared he would accidentally do something that Lovino wasn't ready for, something that would make him feel uncomfortable or even hurt him. The last thing Antonio wanted to do was hurt Lovino, whom he knew had already went through way too much pain and who had just presently seemed to gain a new air of self-confidence.

With that thought in mind, Antonio placed a gentle kiss above the Italian's shirt collar where a fresh, light red mark now stood out from his olive skin. He waited for a while, giving the Italian the chance to tell him to stop, but when he only nuzzled his face against his shoulder, showing no sign of wanting to be released from his hold, Antonio brought his lips to the soft skin just above the fading mark that he'd just left, this time sucking on it a little harder. Encouraged by the small, muffled grunt let out by Lovino, he moved to another spot again, this time on his neck, while wrapping his arm tighter around the Italian's waist and pulling his body tightly against his own.

With their bodies pressing into each other so closely, Antonio could feel every tiny movement that the Italian made: the tension in his muscles whenever he drew in a sharp breath, his rapid heartbeat against the Spaniard's own, his hot breath against his shoulder and the way his fingers kept a firm hold on his hair, making his scalp sting with a prickling pain. All those sensations shot through Antonio's body like electricity, feeding the fire that was building up in his body and urging him on, leaving him unable to think about anything else but Lovino and how much he wanted him in a way that he'd never wanted anyone else before.

While lightly nibbling at the fresh mark he'd just made on Lovino's skin in a spot that would be narrowly hidden by the collar of a button-up shirt, Antonio ran his hand down Lovino's side, stopping when he reached his hip and slipping a few of his fingers under the hem of his shirt. After feeling Lovino's muscles tense under his touch, Antonio brought his other hand, which had previously been buried in the Italian's hair, to gently lift up his chin from where he'd been resting his head on the Spaniard's shoulder.

Lovino's face was flushed in a deep shade of pink as he creased his brows in an evasive frown, struggling to meet Antonio's eyes with his face only a few inches above the Spaniard's. He was breathing through his parted lips in short, breathy puffs, and his auburn hair was a mess, with loose strands sticking out and hanging over his eyes. In other words, he looked absolutely stunning, leaving Antonio unable to do anything but stare at him for a couple of seconds, knowing that it had been no one else but _him_ who had made him like that.

Then, when he finally regained the ability to form sensible thoughts, he tilted his head slightly, giving the Italian a questioning look that asked: _Is this okay?_

It took a while before the Italian was able to properly meet his eyes again, but when he did, Antonio found them to be lit up with the same fire that was burning in his own body, the fire that served as a silent answer to his silent question. Only a second later, that answer was confirmed by a small nod of the Italian's head, a nod that reminded Antonio of their first kiss and how he'd then asked Lovino if it was okay for him to kiss him.

The Spaniard felt his lips spread into a small, happy smile as his chest swelled with an overwhelming sense of affection towards the Italian, a sense of affection that was even stronger than the impatience that flowed in his veins like liquid fire. Pressing his fingers against the heated skin on Lovino's cheek, Antonio reached up to meet the Italian's lips in a gentle kiss.

Smiling against Lovino's soft lips as he carefully trailed his fingers along the Italian's slim side, Antonio thought about how far they'd come from the day when Lovino had first visited his room and when they'd shared their first kiss. On that day, he had been completely oblivious to the injury that awaited him only a week away, oblivious to all the feelings of uncertainty and hopelessness that were ahead of him, and yet he was surprised to realize how little bitterness he felt when thinking about it now: Even though he'd used to think that those times before his injury had been perfect, he now realized that he wouldn't necessarily want to change the past even if he had the chance, even if he could that way avoid the injury and the fear and anxiety that seemed to sneak up on him whenever he lowered his guard.

In that moment, with Lovino's warm lips and slim body pressing against his own and his hand slowly caressing the soft, heated skin under the Italian's shirt, Antonio didn't have any doubts when he thought that what he had now was perfect enough for him. Even if there were still hardships waiting for him in the future, there was no way he would succumb to the darkness within himself, not when he had Lovino by his side. Lovino, who had once been the last flame of hope in the dark abyss he'd been stumbling through, had now enveloped him in his warm light and pulled him out from that suffocating darkness.

**xxx**

Lovino's eyes fluttered open to the faint light of a December morning coming in through the parted window blinds. He felt warm and comfortable, and there was a familiar weight resting on his side – a weight which he instantly recognized as Antonio's arm, for the Spaniard had formed a habit of wrapping his arms around him when they went to bed. That might have been partly because of the limited space in the bed that was technically meant for only one person to sleep in, but Lovino had come to notice that there was something very calming about Antonio's slow and even breathing next to his ear and the steady rising and falling of his firm chest against his back.

Lovino had never been a morning person, and as usual, it took a while for his vision to properly sharpen as he sleepily blinked his eyes. His look fell on Antonio's hand, which was resting on top of the Italian's own in front of him. It was warm, just like the Spaniard's hands always seemed to be, a little darker in complexion than the Italian's own and notably larger, yet not large enough to be clumsy. No, Antonio's touch was always gentle and caring when he laced his fingers together with Lovino's or stroked his hair or caressed his cheek or…

The last remnants of sleepiness left Lovino's body as the memories from the night before finally flooded his mind, making his face instantly heat up as the combination of Antonio's body heat and the blankets around him suddenly felt _way_ too hot for his comfort.

Last night, he and Antonio had…

Lovino rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow as more detailed memories popped into his mind, memories that were _way_ too embarrassing to be thought back to. Unable to remain still for any longer, Lovino carefully slid out from under Antonio's arm and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, only to be abruptly stopped by the pain that hit him the moment he sat up. The Italian hadn't realized how sore his body was while he'd been lying down, but now he suddenly wasn't sure if standing up was such good idea after all.

Lovino could feel his already heated face grow hotter at the humiliating situation he was in, and just when he thought it couldn't possibly get more embarrassing, he felt a set of warm fingers gently close around his wrist from behind.

"It's okay, I can take care of the breakfast." There was only the tiniest hint of sleepiness in Antonio's voice as sat up to join Lovino on the edge of the bed, where he stopped to carefully study the Italian next to him.

Feeling the Spaniard's attentive eyes on him, Lovino finally turned his head to meet the other boy's look for a fraction of a second before quickly dropping his gaze to his lap. A small, worried frown had formed on the Spaniard's tan face, which looked as handsome as always even thought he'd just woken up. Lovino's heart was racing in his chest by now, and he could feel his hands grow sweaty, making him feel like he was literally about to melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

"How are you feeling?"

Lovino kept his eyes tightly fixed at his own lap, painfully aware of how red his face must have been and how Antonio was still studying him way too closely. "I'm fine", he muttered as he willed himself to calm down even as he failed to stop the memories from the night before from popping into his mind one after the other.

The Spaniard continued to study him for a couple more painful seconds, after which the Italian felt him move closer to himself and gently brush a few strands of hair off his face. Lovino wondered how on Earth Antonio didn't seem at all embarrassed after what they'd done last night, but instead just fussed over the Italian in his usual manner.

"Good."

Lovino could hear the relieved smile in the Spaniard's voice as he wrapped his arms firmly around the Italian's waist, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his forehead. Now that the Spaniard was no longer studying him in that attentive way of his, instead resting his chin on his shoulder as he pulled him closer against his chest, Lovino could feel his rapid heartbeat slowly start to calm down. Regardless of the embarrassing nature of the situation, and the fact that it was beyond him how Antonio could be acting so casual after the previous night, Lovino couldn't help it that being embraced like that by the Spaniard filled him with that warm and fuzzy feeling only Antonio was able to evoke in him.

They stayed like that for a while, with Antonio silently resting his head on Lovino's shoulder while Lovino tried to make sense of the mess of memories and emotions in his mind. However, when he did eventually regain the ability to think somewhat clearly, the Italian realized that it was Saturday morning and the light coming in through the window blinds meant that it couldn't have been very early anymore, which again meant that…

"Aren't you supposed to be in morning practice?" Lovino asked as he turned his head to the side in an attempt to face the Spaniard while his brows creased in a confused frown. During all the weeks they'd been sharing a room, the Spaniard had never overslept or skipped practice, neither intentionally nor by accident. And yet it had to be later than 7.30 AM by now – probably later than 9AM if Lovino had to make a guess - and the Spaniard didn't seem to be at all worried about having just woken up.

"It's okay", Antonio said as he leaned his head against Lovino's, tightening his hold around his waist as if to show that he had no intentions of going anywhere. "I wanted to wait until you woke up to make sure you were okay. I can go to the gym later by myself."

Lovino felt a bit of his earlier embarrassment return as he sheepishly blinked his eyes, refusing to admit to himself that having Antonio fuss over him like that filled his chest with that warm sense of happiness.

"I… I told you I was fine, didn't I?", Lovino said, stuttering slightly as he turned his look away from the Spaniard, silently cursing himself as he felt an all too familiar heat in the tips of his ears. It might have been just morning practice at the gym, but knowing how Antonio woke up before 7AM to go there every morning except for Sundays without a word of complaint, and then having him skip it is so readily just because he wanted to make sure _Lovino_ was okay…

The Italian felt Antonio lift up his chin from his shoulder, and a second later he felt him place a light kiss on his hair just above his ear. "Do you want to eat something?"

Lovino blinked his eyes, forcing himself to break out of his thoughts as he gave the Spaniard a small nod, only now realizing how hungry he actually was.

"I'll go prepare something", Antonio said, releasing his arms from around Lovino's waist. Then he leaned in again to place a light kiss on the tip of his nose. "You stay here."

Lovino briefly considered arguing that he was perfectly capable of walking to the kitchen himself, but decided against it after merely shifting on the bed and remembering how sore his body felt. He settled with watching the Spaniard as he walked across the room in an unfairly effortless manner, then slowly lay down on his stomach, wrapping his arms around the pillow that he tucked under his chest. As he pressed his cheek against the cool surface of the pillow and listened to the sound of drawers being opened and plates being set on the counter drifting from the kitchen through the parted door, the Italian could finally begin to properly sort out his mind.

At first, when the memories from the night before had hit his sleepy consciousness like a bucketful of cold water, Lovino's reaction had mainly consisted of shock and embarrassment. Then, after having to face Antonio with those memories still fresh in his mind, he'd had time to feel a wave of what he could only describe as fear or panic wash over him. He had thought that he must have been out of his mind the night before to let things escalate like that, even if it had had something to do with the slightly light-headed feeling he'd had ever since the morning and his presentation, which somehow hadn't ended up a complete disaster like he'd feared.

However, it had been the way Antonio had treated him the same as before, _cherished_ him the same as before, that had forced Lovino to realize that the Spaniard _showed no regret for what had happened._ Antonio hadn't given him a single look of distaste or disgust after he'd woken up. He hadn't avoided his eyes or unsuccessfully tried to act like nothing had happened. He hadn't done any of the things that Lovino had been dreading to see him do, he hadn't done what Lovino thought any sensible person would do in his situation.

As Lovino now let that realization properly sink into his dazed consciousness, he suddenly found himself blinking his eyes once, twice, three times, the pace getting more rapid after each blink. He swallowed, determinately squeezing his stinging eyes shut as he willed himself to get a grip of himself before Antonio would be back. He was embarrassed of his reaction, but still, he thought as a particularly focused image of Antonio's emerald eyes rose to the surface of his mind, accompanied by the feeling of his warm fingers caressing his cheek and his breath tickling his neck, it was simply too much for Lovino's overworked mind to properly comprehend:

There hadn't been a hint of distaste or disgust in Antonio's eyes when he'd laid them on Lovino, not on the night before, when they'd been filled with the same passion and desire that Lovino had felt for the Spaniard, and not this morning, when they'd worriedly studied the Italian and later on filled with the same, warm sense of happiness that now threatened to overwhelm Lovino.

If getting used to being treated with the care and adoration that Antonio always seemed to treat him with was something that Lovino was still struggling with, this was way beyond that: The Italian had never thought there would be someone who would want him like that, someone who would want to see such a distasteful side of him. Even after meeting Antonio, he'd tried his best to push such thoughts off his mind, for even though Antonio had been the first person he'd truly trusted after his mother's death, the first person who'd made him feel truly safe and comfortable, he'd never dared to hope that the Spaniard would want to go as far as to do _that_ with him.

And not only that, but he hadn't even been sure if _he_ wanted to do something like that, something that required him to put himself in such a vulnerable position. One thing was for sure: Before meeting Antonio, he hadn't even once imagined that he would one day come to enjoy displaying such a vulnerable side of himself in front of anyone. The mere idea would have made him feel disgusted, and, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, even more than that it would have made him feel incredibly _scared._

Now, however, Lovino thought as he breathed in Antonio's familiar scent that had mixed with his own scent in his pillow, he felt neither disgusted nor scared. He simply felt happy, so happy that he felt like he was about to start crying, much like he'd done on that one Sunday morning after stumbling into Antonio's arms, overwhelmed by the sheer sense of relief he'd felt at discovering that the Spaniard didn't resent him for rejecting him. This time, however, it was the fact that the Spaniard had seen such an embarrassing side of him and still kept looking at him in that gentle and adoring way of his, still kept making him feel so _loved_ that made Lovino feel overwhelmed with relief and gratitude.

When Antonio returned from the kitchen with a large mug of coffee and a plate piled high with toast, cheese and sliced tomatoes, Lovino had thankfully managed to regain his composure enough to avoid evoking suspicion in the Spaniard. He shifted on the bed to make room for Antonio, who sat down on the edge and handed him the mug of coffee while laying the plate on the mattress in front of him.

Lovino carefully wrapped his fingers around the mug, focusing his eyes on the surface of the warm brown liquid. From the corner of his eye, he could see Antonio pick up a piece of toast from the plate while his free hand found its way to gently stroke the Italian's hair. Lovino felt a small smile form on his lips even as he was left in awe by how truly _comfortable_ he felt at the moment, regardless of what had happened last night and how embarrassed and even panicked he'd been just a short while ago. In fact, he realized, as unbelievable as it might have sounded, it might have not been so much _regardless_ of what had happened last night, but _because_ of what had happened last night.

Before, he couldn't have ever even imagined that he would one day _enjoy_ physically baring himself to someone like that, but now he couldn't help but to feel amazed at how _natural_ it had felt with Antonio. Ever since his mother had died, Lovino had found it difficult to trust anyone, he'd been too scared of losing someone he cared about again that he'd tried to keep people at a distance, he'd tried to convince himself that he was fine on his own. And yet, the Italian thought as he took a careful sip of hot milk coffee from the mug in front of him, he had not only grown hopelessly attached to Antonio during the past moths, but last night, he'd been able to trust the Spaniard with all his being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading yet another chapter of my story, I really hope you enjoyed it! I actually had some trouble deciding whether to include this chapter at all, but I felt like it was important to explore this aspect of both their relationship and individual characters, which is why I decided to go through with it. I hope nobody minded that!
> 
> This is actually going to be the second-to-last chapter in this story, at least in the case that I don't end up dividing the last chapter into two parts, which doesn't seem very likely at the moment. It will probably take me longer than three weeks to publish the next chapter though, as I will be going home for the Christmas break (which is two weeks) and I'd like to focus on spending time with my family that I haven't seen since summer. After that, there will still likely be an epilogue at some point, but other than that, the next chapter will be the finale for this story!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the final chapter of this story! I know it's a week late from the usual schedule but it's extra long, so I hope that makes up for the delay.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Looking back, Lovino wasn’t quite sure what exactly he’d been expecting from the day when he would go home to Grandpa Roma and Feliciano for the Christmas break.

Had he been dreading to return to the place where he’d so often stood in front of his grandpa’s disapproving figure, jaw taunt and teeth clenched together under the pressure of unspoken words and knuckles white from clutching the edge of the kitchen table like his life depended on it? Had he felt nervous about bringing Antonio to that place, a place where the air was so thick with old memories that anyone who breathed it in would surely be able to see glimpses of his past, of all those years he’d spent in the crossfire of his own thoughts and the condemning faces and voiced around him?

But if that was the case, then why had he agreed to go there in the first place, why hadn’t he denied Feliciano’s request during that one phone call roughly a month ago? Was it simply because of the guilt he felt for being such a lousy big brother for all those years; because he hadn’t wanted to see the disappointment on his brother’s face if he denied his request?

Yes, that might have played an important part in his decision, but there had to be something else to it besides that, for he knew he wasn’t selfless enough to agree so readily to something that would force him to reunite with the memories of the long, dark years in his past. No, the thing that had really enabled him to make that decision was the fact that those memories, those old feelings of anxiety and bitterness, had seemed to slowly start to lose their grip on him during the past months.

That, as Lovino now realized, was the main reason as to why he had made that decision, why the thought of returning home hadn’t filled him with all that old anxiety and bitterness. By that, Lovino didn’t mean he hadn’t felt at all nervous about it. No, during the weeks leading up to the Christmas break, some of those old memories had resurfaced in his mind like droplets of cold rainwater falling on his neck and making goosebumps raise on his skin. However, somehow those memories, which had once poured down on him like a heavy, never-ending rain, had recently been reduced to nothing but a light drizzle.

In fact, it turned out that out of the two of them, Antonio had actually been the more nervous one on the 23rd December, when Grandpa Roma had come to pick them up from the campus parking lot. In the morning, when the Spaniard had come back from the gym, Lovino – who had still been lazing around in bed as usual - had watched him bustle about in the bedroom, picking up clothes from the cabinets and carefully folding them and putting them in his sports bag. Every once in a while, he had abruptly stopped in his movements, briefly shaken his head while muttering something incoherent in Spanish before promptly returning whatever he’d just put in his bag to the cabinet.

If Antonio’s indecisiveness in packing his things had been unusual, the moment when Lovino had truly been astounded was when he’d went to get his toiletries from the bathroom and found Antonio combing his hair in front of the mirror. And not just combing it, but doing something that looked like an attempt to sleek it back with what could have only been one of Francis’ hair products. In that moment, Lovino had finally understood what had been going on with the Spaniard the whole morning: He was desperately trying to think of ways to make a good impression on Lovino’s family.

After getting over the initial shock of seeing Antonio’s new hairstyle – partly sleeked back and partly still sticking out in its usual manner – the Italian had managed to convince him that his normal messy look would do just fine, and that there was no need to borrow Francis’ hair products or cologne. Somehow the Spaniard’s nervousness had ended up directing Lovino’s thoughts away from the conflicting emotions that the idea of returning home evoked in him, and as he’d finally watched Grandpa Roma’s old Toyota curve to the campus parking lot where he was waiting hand in hand with Antonio, he’d been surprised by how clear his mind actually was.

The reassuring feeling of Antonio’s gloved fingers laced together with his own had reminded Lovino that going home to Grandpa Roma and Feliciano for the Christmas break wasn’t the same as going back to how his life had been before. No, for he was no longer alone, he no longer felt like he was up against the whole world by himself: for the first time since his mother’s death, he had someone who could look at him without a trace of disappointment or pity in his eyes, someone who was there by his side when his own strength wasn’t enough.

And not only was he no longer alone, but the Italian had slowly started to feel like he was actually worthy of the Spaniard, like he was no longer the purposeless loser he’d been before. That was mostly due to his public speaking course presentation, which he had somehow managed to handle without any major screw-up. He still wasn’t quite sure how he’d done it, but he remembered how he’d walked to the front of the auditorium, stomach churning and hands covered in cold sweat from the bottled-up feelings of nervousness that had seemed to reach every cell in his body.

However, he could also remember how that jittery feeling of nervousness had started to subside at some point during his walk to the front of the room, he remembered the small voice at the back of his mind saying:

_Weren’t you supposed to go to college so that you could finally do something with your life?_

_This is it._

_Just get this stupid presentation over with and you’ll get to major in the subject you want._

_You’ve come too far to screw up now._

With those words, a new sense of determination had slowly replaced his earlier nervousness, making the rows of auditorium seats and the people occupying them feel strangely distant to Lovino, as if a thick, foggy veil had been set between them and the Italian. Now that he thought about it, it might have just been the adrenaline in his blood or the stress-induced state of dizziness that had caused him to spend the duration of his presentation in a state of daze, but the only thing that really mattered was that he’d got through the contents of his presentation without either fainting or running out from the room.

Even after accepting his round of applause and hearing that he’d been the last speaker for the day and that the class was now dismissed, Lovino had felt like everything around him was somehow surreal and out of focus. He’d made his way out from the auditorium with the sole intention of heading back to Antonio’s flat, only to almost walk into the Spaniard, who had been waiting for him in the hallway. It had been only when he’d let himself fall into Antonio’s warm embrace that the Italian’s senses had slowly started to recover from the strange state of numbness, followed by the realization that he’d actually survived the event he’d been dreading for for months.

However, it had been only when he’d made his way to their flat together with Antonio that he’d realized another thing that showed how great of an impact that one event had had on him: After walking out from the auditorium, he’d hugged Antonio in a hallway filled with his course mates without sparing a single thought to the fact that everybody could see them. He might have been in a rather dazed state when he’d stumbled into Antonio’s arms, but even when that daze had finally worn off in the Spaniard’s warm embrace and the faces of his course mates had come back to focus, he hadn’t been the least bit bothered by the nasty thoughts he knew some of them must have had when they saw him with Antonio.

It was the same self-confidence and determination he’d felt then that had two weeks later allowed him to meet his grandpa’s eyes without the urge to drop down his look in discomfort. He could still remember the way Grandpa Roma’s eyes had carefully scanned him from head to toe before moving to do the same to Antonio, and how the old man had then done something Lovino still had trouble to believe had actually happened: He’d _smiled_ , closed Lovino in a tight, one-armed embrace that had made it hard for him to breathe, then turned back to Antonio and told him that he was happy to meet him.

Even if Lovino wasn’t quite sure what exactly he’d been expecting from the reunion, the reality had certainly caught him by surprise. In fact, it had taken him nearly the whole car ride home to properly recover from the state of shock he’d been left in, leaving him with hardly enough time to brace himself for the second reunion of the day. 

**xxx**

As Antonio sat at the dinner table on the 24th December, he found it hard to believe that only a single year had passed since the previous Christmas Eve.

He had been a freshman then, and one semester hadn’t been enough to teach him how to manage his new schedule, which had been filled with both soccer and schoolwork alike. Technically, that might have been the case for him already in high school, but both the level and the frequency of his soccer practices and the academic requirements he had to fulfill in order to keep his scholarship had been unlike anything he’d experienced before.

That was precisely the reason why he had spent the majority of his previous Christmas break working on a couple of assignments that he’d technically been supposed to turn in _before_ the break, but for which he’d gratefully been granted extended deadlines. While neglecting his schoolwork like that was hardly something he’d been proud for, those piled up assignments had kept him busy for almost the entire break, which had ended up being something he was actually rather grateful for: With most of the people he knew spending the Christmas break at home with their families, the Spaniard had been in for a rather lonely and uneventful two weeks.

Since then, Antonio had luckily got better at managing his busy schedule, and he’d made sure to turn in all his assignments before the official deadlines, leaving him with no urgent work he’d have to finish over the Christmas break. As much as he wanted to believe in the improvement he’d made in getting his schoolwork done on time, he was quite sure that part of that improvement was simply a matter of motivation, motivation that arose from the fact that unlike the previous year, now he wouldn’t have the time to spend most of his Christmas break working on school assignments.

No, because the greatest difference between then and now was that instead of facing his laptop screen alone in his room at the campus, he was sitting at a small kitchen table 300 miles Southwest from the college, faced with a collection of traditional Italian Christmas dishes. And most importantly, by his side sat the person who made any place feel like a home to him, whether it was his campus flat or an apartment he’d only set his foot in for the first time on the day before. _He_ was the person who had wanted to introduce Antonio to his family, the person Antonio wanted to spend Christmas with without having to worry about undone schoolwork.

It was at that moment when the Spaniard was brought back from his thoughts by a sudden exclamation let out by no one else but Lovino:

“Wait a minute! You were having pasta with who? Who is this guy you’re talking about, Feli?”

“ _Fratello_ , don’t get mad, he’s just helping me with my math homework!” the younger Italian said hurriedly, giving Antonio the impression that the two of them had had similar conversations on multiple occasions before.

“Math homework? And what did that pasta have to do with your math homework then, huh, Feli?” Lovino demanded, clearly unconvinced by his brother’s explanation. His eyebrows, which had momentarily risen high enough to be completely hidden by his auburn bangs, were now creased in a suspicious frown.

“Well, he stayed over for dinner once… and a couple of times after that, but-“

“A couple of times after that?” Lovino repeated, leaning forwards in his seat and causing the younger Italian to shift uncomfortably on the opposite side of the table.

Antonio moved his eyes to the boys’ grandfather, who was sitting next to the younger one of the brothers, leaning back in his chair as if patiently waiting for a more peaceful moment to finish him meal. His brow was creased in a small frown, but otherwise he showed no signs of concern for what was going on with his grandsons. Those permanent lines on his brow and the grey color of his hair were the only things that spoke of his old age, while his body – slim but firmly built like the body of someone who had spent his life doing physical labor – could have belonged to a much younger man.

“ _Si, Fratello_ , but we were only having dinner at our place!” the younger Italian finally retorted, facing his brother with newfound determination in his voice. While Feliciano’s usual carefree countenance was what mostly made him stand out from his brother, whom he greatly resembled appearance-wise, the resolved expression that had now settled on his face made the resemblance between the two brothers almost uncanny.

“Besides, you’ve got it all wrong”, the young Italian continued in a softer tone while his look dropped down to his plate, which held a half-finished meal of pasta with traditional Italian seafood sauce. “Ludwig is a nice guy.”

 _Ludwig…_ Antonio frowned, letting his eyes drop from the young Italian to his own food, which was an assortment of everything that was laid out on the table. Somehow that name sounded familiar to him, even though he was quite sure he had never known anyone named Ludwig. _No, wait,_ he thought as his eyes quickly moved back to the young Italian across the table. He had never _personally_ known anyone named Ludwig, but…

“Ludwig?” the Spaniard asked with a curious raise of his eyebrows. “What’s his last name?”

The Italian blinked his eyes that were almost the exact same shade of amber as his brother’s, then creased his brows in a concentrated frown. “Beil… Beil...”

“Beilschmidt?” Antonio asked, wondering if the guy Feliciano was talking about could really be who he thought he was.

“ _Si!_ ” The young Italian exclaimed delightedly, then paused to stare at the Spaniard with his eyes wide from amazement. “How did you know?”

However, his voice was partly drowned out by his brother, who demanded at the same time: “Do you know this guy, Antonio?”

Antonio couldn’t stop his lips from spreading into a slightly bewildered grin. “No, but I know his older brother.”

Antonio thought back to the previous summer, when he’d been part of a team playing in the Premier Development League, which was designed to offer talented collegiate soccer players a chance to refine their skills during the off-season. While he hadn’t been on the same team as Alfred and Matthew, who had also qualified to play in the same league, he had met some new rather interesting personalities, including a German guy named Gilbert Beilschmidt. Antonio suspected that the reason why the two of them had become friends so quickly might have had something to do with how much Gilbert resembled Alfred, both on and off the soccer field.

While Gilbert had loved to boast about his own achievements very much like the American, it had also been often that he’d talked about his little brother, Ludwig. Antonio had found out that Ludwig was a year younger than his brother, which made him the same age as Lovino, and that he possessed great skill in soccer – which was no wonder, since “he’d learned from the best”. He’d received an offer from the same university that his brother was enrolled in, and Gilbert had been very excited about getting him in his college team after being separated from him for a year.

Antonio’s brows creased slightly as he once again faced the younger Italian, who was still waiting for a proper explanation from him, very much like Lovino, whose intense stare the Spaniard could feel on himself even without actually seeing it. However, trying to get his own memories and the information he’d just received from Feliciano to fit together had Antonio too preoccupied to provide the brothers with a better explanation.

“Ludwig is helping you with your math homework?” He asked the younger Italian for confirmation.

“ _Si!_ And exams too – I got a B- on my last exam and my teacher called it a miracle!”

Antonio blinked, wondering briefly if his high school math teacher would have used the word “miracle” had he ever managed to get a B or B- on one of his exams. “How did you get to know him?”

“Oh, he used to go to my school until last year – but I never talked to him since I thought he looked too scary – but now he goes to a college pretty close by and my teacher asked him if he could tutor me since he got straight A’s in math!”

Antonio nodded slowly as the young Italian’s excited blabbering came to an end. This Ludwig had to be Gilbert’s little brother – the name and age were right and Antonio could even remember Gilbert mention him being a “nerd” – and yet he went to a college “pretty close by”. Whatever the exact distance to Gilbert’s college was, it had to be at least 500 miles, which Antonio did not find exactly fitting to the description “close by”.

While Antonio tried to figure out whether they really were talking about a different person after all or whether Ludwig had for some reason ended up declining the offer he’d got from a prestigious soccer university, his thoughts were once again interrupted by Lovino.

“College? Did you say he goes to college, Feli? Haven’t I told you not to trust older guys –  you never know what they want from you!”

“ _Fratello!_ Even if he looks a little scary, Ludwig is a nice guy. And he’s the same age as you – he’s not even that much older than me.”

Antonio could feel someone nudge his foot under the table, and a second later Lovino said: “Antonio, back me up here, this guy seems really suspicious.”

“Uh, Lovino…” Antonio glanced at the Italian next to him, causing him to annoyedly cross his arms at the unconvinced expression on the Spaniard’s face. While Antonio found it adorable how protective the Italian was of his younger brother, he couldn’t help but to feel like he was being a little too skeptical about Ludwig, even if Antonio didn’t personally know the guy. Also, Lovino’s argument about older guys being untrustworthy did seem a little questionable considering that Antonio was a year older than him as well.

The sound of the boys’ grandfather clearing his throat got everyone around the table to turn their eyes to him. He was still leaning back in his chair with his brow slightly creased, and even though he undoubtedly could feel the three pair of eyes that were focused on him, he kept his own look thoughtfully fixed at the large bowl of risotto at the center of the table.  

“This Ludwig looked like a decent kid to me”, the old man said calmly before lifting his head to briefly meet Lovino’s eyes.

Antonio watched as Lovino considered his grandfather’s words for a moment, his brows creased in a deep frown. Then he finally grumbled a reluctant “fine” before promptly returning his look to his younger brother. “But I swear, if this bastard does something to you, I’m going to hunt him down and-…“

“Lovi”, the Italian’s grandfather said emphatically, interrupting him before he could finish describing what he was prepared to do to his brother’s math tutor. “Are you planning to finish your pasta? At this rate, we’re not going to get to the dessert before midnight.”

**xxx**

They did get to the dessert before midnight, but it was well after that time when Feliciano announced that he couldn’t eat any more of the tiramisu, panforte or panettone bread that the boys’ grandfather had brought to the living room along with two bottles of sweet passito wine. The corner sofa which the four of them were occupying was slightly worn out but nevertheless comfortable, and along with the late hour, the good food and the familiar warmth of Lovino’s shoulder pressing against his own regardless of the abundant space on the sofa, it was starting to make Antonio feel slightly sleepy.

Having just drained the last of his wine, the Spaniard placed his glass on the small table occupying the center of the living room. When he was just about to lean back against the cushions, however, his attention was caught by Lovino’s grandfather, who was the first person to stand up and excuse himself from the table.

“I’m going out for a cigarette”, the old man said as he brushed off the front of his shirt, then turned to the coats hanging next to the front door of the apartment. He grabbed his coat before stopping to think for a couple of seconds, during which Antonio wondered if he’d forgotten something, then turned back to the sofa with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Antonio, would you mind joining me outside for a moment?”

Antonio blinked, sitting up straighter on the sofa even as his hand still remained resting on the small of Lovino’s back. He felt some of the nervousness from the day before flow back into his system, effectively replacing the relaxed sleepiness he’d been feeling just a moment ago. Just when he was about to start wondering what it could possibly be that Lovino’s grandfather wanted to talk to him in private about, Lovino himself voiced his thoughts for him.

“What do you want from Antonio?” the Italian asked while rising up from where he’d been settled comfortably between the backrest of the sofa and Antonio’s shoulder. His brows were once again creased in a suspicious frown as he faced his grandfather, and the Spaniard could feel the tension in his muscles under the hand he had on his back.

“I just want to have a quick word with him, that’s all Lovi”, the old man said in a calm tone, although his voice held the kind of finality that told Antonio he didn’t expect to be argued with.

Antonio tried to swallow down his nervousness, then gave Lovino’s back what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze and finally stood up from the sofa. “It’s fine, Lovino. I’ll be back soon.”

He followed Lovino’s grandfather to the front door and into the staircase, then down the stairs until they reached the small lobby and the door that led to the dark front yard of the apartment building. Antonio was quiet the whole way as he wondered what it was that had made the old man suddenly want to talk to him in private, and whether he had made some kind of a mistake that had made him disapprove of him.

The front yard was dark and deserted, illuminated only by the light above the entrance and the streetlamps lining the walk that led to other similar apartment buildings on both sides. A flicker of extra light next to him got Antonio to turn his look back to Lovino’s grandfather, who was lighting a cigarette with an electric lighter he’d dug out from his front pocket at some point during the walk down the staircase. The unreadable expression that had earlier been on his face had been altered by a thoughtful frown; a frown that Antonio noted bore unmistakable resemblance to the one that Lovino often tended to wear on his face.

Another minute was spent in silence as the old man smoked his cigarette and Antonio watched the smoke as it floated off into the still night like hazy grey clouds that lost their shape and disappeared after a while.

“I used to smoke quite a lot when I was younger”, Lovino’s grandfather stated in a thoughtful tone, finally breaking the silence that had been stretching on since the moment they left the apartment. “There wasn’t that much fuss about cigarettes being so bad for your health back then, though”, he continued before blowing yet another smoke cloud into the dark front yard. Then he let out a short laugh, or a sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh but that sounded more like a bitter snort to Antonio.

“My daughter never liked it. Smoking. That’s why I mostly quit after starting to take care of Lovi and Feli.”

Antonio could sense the melancholy that surrounded the old man at the mention of his daughter, making the last of the Spaniard’s relaxedness and wine-induced light-headedness wear off like he’d been pushed into a cold shower. The serious expression that had without a doubt settled on his face didn’t go unnoticed by Lovino’s grandfather, who was giving him a long, contemplating look from the corner of his eye. Finally, he let out a long exhale, blowing another cloud of cigarette smoke into the night.

Then the old man turned to face Antonio, properly meeting his eyes for the first time since they’d left the apartment. Somehow, Antonio noted, he looked much older than back at the dinner table, and for the first time since he’d met him, the Spaniard realized that the old man was at least three inches shorter than him. In the dim, artificial light that illuminated the front entrance from above, his amber-colored eyes looked tired and somehow faded, as if they’d seen too much misery during his lifetime.

Then, as suddenly as he’d initiated it, Lovino’s grandfather broke the eye contact, flicking the ashes off his cigarette before turning to drop the burnt stump in the jar next to the door.

“The whole time I’ve been looking after those two… I can’t remember a single time Lovi looked truly happy”, the old man said in a quiet voice as he turned to face the empty front yard next to Antonio. “We were all going through tough times, but… I think it was the hardest for Lovi. I wanted to see him smile like he did before as a child, but I don’t think I ever really understood him.”

The old man kept his eyes fixed at a dark spot between two dim streetlamps across the front yard, but Antonio doubted that was what he truly saw in front of him. Whatever he saw, the Spaniard was quite sure there were no streetlamps of any kind, but only darkness, the same kind of darkness Antonio had before gazed at himself. It was the kind of darkness that left you wondering if there’s anything else behind it, the kind of darkness that Antonio would have surely succumbed to had he not had Lovino to show him a way out.

“I think I actually made it worse for him.” This time, the old man turned to face Antonio again, and the look in his tired, faded eyes held so much pain and regret that the air seemed to escape Antonio’s lungs like he’d been punched in the gut.

Unable to meet the old man’s eyes for any longer, Antonio let his look fall to the stone tiles before his feet. Lovino had never been inclined to talk about his past, leaving Antonio with no details about his life before college. After hearing about his mother’s death, Antonio had better understood why it was such a painful topic to him, and he’d decided not to bring it up if the Italian didn’t wish to talk about it himself. However, seeing the pain and regret in the old man’s eyes as he talked about his grandson, Antonio felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the actual weather seep deep into his bones regardless of his warm coat.

“But now…”, Lovino’s grandfather continued, getting Antonio to lift his eyes up from the grey stone tiles. The pained look had left the old man’s face, replaced by what Antonio could only describe as a look of gratitude. “The moment I saw him yesterday, I realized he’s happy.”

It was definitely gratitude that lit up the old man’s features, instantly making him look years younger than just a moment ago. “Thank you”, he said as he met Antonio’s eyes with a look that was at the same time solemn and earnest.

“I can see that with you, Lovi is truly happy for the first time since…” The sadness returned to the old man’s eyes as he once again turned his look from the Spaniard to the dark and empty front yard in front of him. “…For the first time since my daughter passed away.”

Even though he had known what to expect, the last sentence spoken by Lovino’s grandfather made any remaining warmth leave Antonio’s body like the blood in his veins had turned to ice. He noticed the glance that the old man gave him from the corner of his eye, and something about his face caught his attention enough to get him to face him again.

“Did he tell you about it?” the old man asked, his brow again creased in thought as he carefully studied the Spaniard next to him.

 Antonio replied with a short nod of his head, then swallowed the lump that had been forming in his throat as he’d listened to Lovino’s grandfather. “Just that she passed away.”

The old man continued to study him for a while longer. Then, to Antonio’s great surprise, he smiled. The smile itself was melancholic, but his eyes were full of warmth when he faced Antonio, and the Spaniard realized he’d been surprised to find out that Lovino would have told someone even that much about his past.

“My daughter…” Lovino’s grandfather started, once again turning his eyes forward, where someone was starting a car on the parking lot of the apartment building across from where they stood. The red backlights looked unnaturally bright in the surrounding darkness, piercing the night like a pair of angry, red eyes.

“…She married a Formula One driver when she was not much older than you”, the old man said, his tone quiet and pensive once again. “He was young, too, but talented, and he was predicted great success in the future. It wasn’t his talent that interested my daughter, thought”, the old man said with the hint of a wistful smile on his lips. “She was the kind of person who always looked below the surface.”

Antonio watched the red backlights of the car slowly curve out from the parking lot as he listened to Lovino’s grandfather’s story, unable to stop himself from thinking about how it would end. The coldness in his body seemed to have centered around his chest, making him feel like his lungs were being filled with shards of ice. The apprehension of listening to a story he knew would end tragically and hearing the sorrow in the old man’s voice would have been painful enough, but knowing that Lovino was part of that story lifted the pain to a whole different level.

“He did become successful, but he didn’t handle the fame well. He picked up all kinds of bad habits - drinking, gambling, sleeping around -  but my daughter, as bright as she was, didn’t want to face the truth. She didn’t want to accept the fact that he’d changed. If you ask me, she gave him way too many chances, but it was the one time she got truly fed up that it happened.”

Antonio remained staring into the once again undisturbed darkness in front of him like a statue, barely even breathing as he waited for the old man to continue his story.

“After she caught him sleeping with another woman, he flew all the way to Australia for a race, but she was so fed up that she didn’t even turn on the TV.” The old man paused, breathing in the fresh night air as he too kept his eyes fixed at the darkness in front of him. “That was when his car crashed.”

Antonio blinked, carefully turning his eyes to the old man standing next to him. The shock must have been evident on his face, but Lovino’s grandfather was nearly expressionless apart from his eyes, which were filled with pain.  

“He died almost instantly. My daughter, she only learned about it afterwards, when she got a phone call from the hospital.” The old man paused for a while, and when he spoke again, there was a new kind of bitterness to his voice. “Later, she watched the interview he gave before the race. I watched it too. He apologized for his mistakes and said he would win the race for his family.”

The look in the old man’s eyes was hard with bitterness as he turned back to the empty front yard again. “I wish he hadn’t said that. It was what really broke her.”

Antonio realized he had been holding his breath while listening to the final parts of the story. He forced himself to take a breath of cold night air, which only added to the icy feeling that was now spreading from his chest to the rest of his body. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear more, but he reminded himself that it couldn’t have been be easy for Lovino’s grandfather to retell his daughter’s story like this, and that even though hearing it was painful to Antonio, it was something that Lovino had had to go through himself. The least Antonio could do was listen, to learn more about the tragedy in Lovino’s past and then make sure he would never have to go through that kind of pain again.

“The construction firm I worked for had a branch not far from here, and I thought it would be good for my daughter and the boys to get away from Italy, so we moved here to the States. We managed to escape most of the publicity, but my daughter was never the same again. She started losing her health and passed away a year after her husband.”

The old man’s hand reached for his front pocket, then faltered like he was trying to resist an old habit. “One cigarette’s enough”, he muttered to himself in a flat voice, letting his hand fall back to his side as he fixed his eyes at the dark sky above the three-floor apartment building further ahead.

When he next turned to face Antonio, there was a determined expression on his face, a determined expression that the Spaniard remembered seeing on Lovino’s face after he told him about his mother. As Antonio now realized, it was the expression of someone who was in pain but who had resolved to move forward and bear with it: Lovino had lost his mother, the old man had lost his daughter, but the pain was still the same, the pain and the resolve to live on nevertheless.

“Lovi was eleven years old then, Feli ten. I don’t think I have it in myself to ever fully forgive their father for everything they had to go through, but at least they can have the money he got from all the races he won. He didn’t really hold back in spending it himself, but he still left behind enough to cover both boys' college fees and still have some left for their future.”

Antonio nodded, thinking about how expensive the tuition fees at his college were. He would’ve never been able to pay for them himself had he not received a full scholarship, and out of the people he knew well, only Francis – or his family, which was involved in the fashion industry in France - was covering them without a scholarship. Antonio’s father had left him and his mother without leaving them any money, and even if no sum of money could account for what Lovino and his family had had to go through, at least his father had left behind something they could use to build a better future for themselves.

Antonio was brought back from his thoughts by the feeling of Lovino’s grandfather’s hand landing on his shoulder. He blinked his eyes back into focus, meeting the old man’s eyes as he faced him with a serious expression on his face.

“I believe you understand why I wanted to tell you all this”, the old man said, the look in his eyes tired but nevertheless firm and attentive. “Lovi’s had to go through way too much for his young age – any age, if you ask me. After what happened to my daughter… I won’t allow anyone to hurt him the same way.”

Antonio met the old man’s stern eyes, finally understanding why he had asked him to join him outside where he could talk to him in private. Not to threaten him out of dislike towards him, but to protect his grandson, to make sure the tragedy that had faced his daughter wouldn’t repeat itself. Antonio blinked his eyes, which he only now noticed were stinging slightly. Now he knew what exactly was behind that troubled look Lovino sometimes tended to assume, and the emotional barrier that had used to close around him like a protective shell whenever Antonio had asked him about his family.

“I want him to be happy, Mr. Vargas.” Antonio managed to say regardless of the overwhelming emotions that swelled in his chest and made his voice sound oddly thick. “I’ll do everything I can to make him happy.”

The old man studied him for a few seconds longer, then nodded and squeezed his shoulder in what Antonio could only describe as a fatherly manner. “I trust you’ll be good to him.”

Antonio nodded. “I will.” He paused to think for a while, feeling like he should voice the rest of the emotions that were responsible for the overwhelming feeling in his chest. “He makes me happy too”, he finally said, feeling his lips spread into a fond smile as he thought of Lovino and all the moments they’d spent together since they’d first met.

“To be honest…” he continued in a quieter voice, dropping his look to the ground as he thought about everything that had happened during the past semester. “I don’t know how I would’ve got through the past months without Lovino.”

The old man nodded thoughtfully as his look fell to Antonio’s legs. “Your injury. I read about it in Soccer America.”

Antonio blinked, this time in surprise. He had been shown articles about himself several times last year, when his team had been making its way to the national finals and he had been picked out as one of the best players in the league. However, this season he had been too preoccupied trying to cope with his injury to even think about the fact that it must have ended up on the pages of several sports magazines.

“How-…”

“How did I find the article?” Lovino’s grandfather guessed as he studied Antonio from the corner of his eye. “I actually happen to be a bit of a soccer fan myself. I wasn’t trying to track you down on the Internet, you can take my word for it.” The old man stopped to give the Spaniard an amused smile that made him feel like they were suddenly back having a casual conversation in the warmth of the living room.

“I figured meeting you in person would be a better way to tell if I want you near my grandson or not”, the old man continued in the same casual tone, although Antonio did feel like he’d just passed some sort of a test.

“I hope you get it sorted out soon, though, your injury. I’m saying that both as Lovi’s grandfather and a soccer fan.”

Antonio nodded, feeling his lips spread into a small smile. “I’ll do my best.”

**xxx**

When they got back to the apartment, which felt very warm and very cozy after the chilly darkness outside, they found the two brothers spread out on the sofa, sharing the remaining bottle of dessert wine. Regardless of his reluctance to let Antonio accompany his grandfather in the first place, Lovino was so busy pouring himself another glass of wine while his brother tried to reach for the bottle in his hand that he barely acknowledged their arrival.

“Lovi, that’s your last glass for tonight”, the old man announced after taking off his coat and hanging it back on the wall. His tone was again firm and authoritative, holding none of the weariness Antonio had witness only a moment ago. “And Feli, not a drop more for you”, he said emphatically, causing the younger one of the brothers to dejectedly give up his attempt to snatch the bottle from Lovino’s hand.

“I’m going to retire for the night now”, Lovino’s grandfather said as he met Antonio’s eyes once more. “Look after those two, will you?” He asked, giving the Spaniard’s shoulder a final squeeze. Then he wished everyone good night and headed off to the direction of the bedrooms.

Antonio’s eyes followed his back for a few more seconds before he focused his attention back to the two brothers. He found Lovino to be watching him while sipping his wine, his brows creased slightly in thought as if he was guessing what Antonio had been talking about with his grandfather. His olive skin was flushed faint pink around the cheeks, presumably from the wine, but he didn’t seem to be anywhere near as drunk as after the party they’d attended together in Alfred and Matthew’s flat.

When Antonio was just about to join the two on the sofa, however, Feliciano decided to move closer to his brother, sprawling himself on top of the older Italian with a sleepy “ _Fratelloooo~_ ”

Lovino barely managed to avoid spilling his wine as he lifted up his glass, giving his brother an exasperated look before reaching over him to place the glass on the table. He nudged the younger Italian in a half-hearted attempt to get him to move, then let out a small sigh and patted his head with what Antonio could only describe as an affectionate frown on his face.

The Spaniard glanced at Feliciano, who seemed to be quickly drifting off across his brother’s lap. Looking at the content sleepiness on Feliciano’s flushed face, it was hard to imagine how tough of a childhood he must have had behind him. But then again, Antonio thought as his eyes continued to study the younger Italian, there had been a couple of times when the Spaniard had noticed him exchange a look with his brother, and instead of the cheerful smile that usually lit up his features, there had been a meaningful, slightly melancholic look in his eyes.

Antonio forced himself to take his eyes off the younger one of the brothers, instead finally making his way to the sofa, where he sat down next to Lovino. From the thoughtful look that had settled back on the Italian’s face and the fact that he hadn’t asked what his grandfather had wanted to talk to Antonio about, the Spaniard guessed he must have figured out the topic of their conversation himself. For a brief moment, he felt guilty for hearing the story from someone else than Lovino himself, but the calm, knowing look on the Italian’s face lacked any anger or accusation, as if he wasn’t completely opposed to the idea of Antonio having just learned about what had happened in his past.

Snuggling closer to the Italian, Antonio protectively wrapped one of his arms around his waist, nuzzling his face against his warm neck. It was only now that he felt Lovino’s warm body so close to him that the rest of the icy coldness that had filled his chest and spread to the rest of his body slowly started to melt. After a while, he could feel Lovino rest his cheek against his head, and they stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the closeness and warmth of each other as they listened to Feliciano’s even breaths.

Now that the last traces of that icy coldness had left his body, replaced by the comforting warmth of being snuggled up next to Lovino, Antonio was starting to feel sleepy again. “I think we should go to bed”, he mumbled softly against Lovino’s neck, causing the Italian to slowly lift up his head from where he’d been leaning against Antonio.

Loosening his hold around Lovino’s waist, Antonio let the other boy reach for his wine glass, raising his eyebrows as he watched the Italian empty the rest of the golden liquid in one gulp. He reached out to grab the bottle from the table, his eyebrows raising even higher at the notion that it was empty.

“I had to do something to stop Feli from drinking all of it”, the Italian said with a shrug, although there was a small smile playing on his lips.

Antonio shook his head, his own lips spreading into an amused smile at Lovino’s way of taking care of his brother. He watched as the Italian pushed his brother off himself unusually gently, propping him against the backrest of the sofa and causing him to grumble softly in his sleep.

“I can carry him to his bed”, Antonio suggested as he watched Lovino hold his sleeping brother by the shoulders to keep him from falling back on top of him. The sight caused the Spaniard to smile again, although this time at how adorable the two of them looked together.

“Not a chance”, the Italian said immediately as he turned to face Antonio, his eyes automatically dropping to his injured knee before rising back up to fix the Spaniard with a firm look. Then he stood up from the sofa, only to reel slightly before regaining his balance with some trouble.

Antonio quickly stood up as well, wrapping both of his arms around the Italian’s waist from behind. “You sure drinking all that wine was a good idea?” he teased the other boy while pulling him closely against his chest.

“Let me go”, Lovino grumbled, wriggling slightly to free himself from the Spaniard’s hold. “We have to get Feli to bed.”

Antonio doubtfully raised his eyebrows before reluctantly releasing his arms from around the Italian, ready to catch him in case he lost his balance again. However, he seemed to be able to stand steadily enough as he bent down to grab his brother by the arm, hauling him to his feet with the Spaniard’s help.

The young Italian was only partly awake when they walked him to their bedroom, and when they laid him down on the lower bunk, he went back to sleep almost instantly. After quickly changing into their sleeping clothes, Antonio and Lovino settled on the mattress that occupied practically all remaining floorspace in the small room. Even though Lovino had the upper bunk that he’d used to sleep in before, the two of them had grown so used to sleeping next to each other that the Italian had automatically joined Antonio on the mattress when they’d went to bed on the night before.

Antonio pulled the blanket to better cover the both of them, then faced the boy lying next to him, bringing his hand to carefully tuck a stray strand of auburn hair behind his ear. It was dim but not completely dark in the room, which was illuminated by the faint glow of the nightlight on Feliciano’s desk – according to Lovino, the younger one of the brothers had had a particularly bad fear of the dark when he was little, and he still didn’t feel comfortable if it was completely dark in the room. The soft, yellow light gave Lovino’s face a warm glow, making his amber eyes look almost golden.

Antonio smiled at the sight in front of him, the sight that never ceased to make him feel like the luckiest person alive, no matter how badly his day had been going until then. Looking into the Italian’s beautiful eyes, Antonio slowly slid his hand from his soft hair to his chin, closing the remaining distance between the two of them and capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. Closing his eyes at the feeling of Lovino’s soft lips against his own, Antonio placed a couple more light kisses on his lips, then deepened the kiss by sliding in his tongue.

He kissed Lovino deep and slow, revering in the taste of the sweet dessert wine on his tongue as the Italian kissed him back, snuggling closer to him and burying his fingers in the hair at the back of his head. With Lovino’s warm chest pressing against his own as he explored his mouth with his tongue, Antonio felt his earlier conversation with the Italian’s grandfather slowly fade into nothing more than a distant memory. He had hardly forgotten the contents of that conversation, but feeling Lovino so close to himself in such a concrete and intimate way made Antonio feel like whatever had happened in the past didn’t matter right now.

Even if neither of them could ever really forget about what had happened in the past, those were only memories, something that would always exist in some corner of their minds, like a dark shadow cast to the side of a building on a bright summer day. The past would always be there and it could never be altered, but as long as they didn’t let it determine their future, Antonio was sure they could learn to live with it, they could learn to move out from the shadow and enjoy the sunny day.

The past hadn’t stopped Antonio from meeting Lovino in the vegetable shop on that one rainy Friday afternoon, and it hadn’t stopped the Italian from staying by his side through the past months all the way up to this day. The Spaniard would eventually tell Lovino about the conversation he’d had with his grandfather, but that could wait until some other day. Besides, he thought as he kissed the other boy earnestly but gently at the same time, he had the feeling that the Italian had already figured out what they’d been talking about himself.

When they finally broke apart, Antonio opened his eyes enough to see Lovino’s face as he traced his thumb along his jawline. He could feel the Italian lazily run his fingers through his hair as his hot breath hit his face and made his skin tingle. The expression on Lovino's face was relaxed and content as he met Antonio’s eyes from under his lush eyelashes, filling the Spaniard's chest with a warm sense of happiness and reassurance. The shadows cast by the past might never completely disappear, but the same way as Lovino had saved him from the overwhelming darkness within himself, Antonio would gladly be the Italian's guiding light any time he needed one.

“Happy Christmas, Lovino”, he mumbled softly before pressing one more soft kiss on the Italian’s lips.

The Spaniard could feel rather than see the small, precious smile that formed on Lovino’s lips before he mumbled quietly against his mouth:

“Happy Christmas, Antonio.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I got my first long story wrapped up, I want to thank all of you who have read it and especially those who have left kudos or a comment. Planning and writing this story has taken me a lot of time, but overall it's been a great experience and I'm really glad I went through with it and got all the way to the final chapter. Even though I keep saying that this is the final chapter - and it is the final chapter in the main body of the story - there will most likely be an epilogue at some point, although I think I will be taking a break for now and come back with it on a later date.
> 
> Anyway, thank you again for sticking with me through all this time, and I really hope you enjoyed this final chapter and the story as a whole! Any feedback will be greatly appreciated, as well as any thoughts or questions you might have regarding the ending of the story!


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three months later, I'm finally back with the epilogue I promised you! I hope you'll enjoy it!

Lovino couldn’t help it that he found Antonio’s dislike towards formal clothing to be somehow endearing. Sure, the Spaniard might have looked _good_ in a white button-up shirt and suit pants, but the way he shed them off the moment they got back to the privacy of their hotel room was just so much like _Antonio_ that it brought a fond smile of amusement to the Italian’s face.

It hadn’t been Lovino’s original plan to book a room in a five-star hotel in Barcelona for the first night of their trip to Spain. He had been going through different hotels on a travelling website, not really sure about what he was looking for, as he did not have much experience on staying in hotels. He’d narrowed down the range to hotels near the airport where they’d land, figuring that he probably wouldn’t feel like spending much time getting to the hotel after the eleven-hour flight, and that’s when it had caught his eye: A tall building with a set of grand glass doors and two large swimming pools glimmering under a setting sun, the rooms styled with dark wooden furniture with cushioned window-seats looking out the grand windows.

Lovino had been used to living modestly ever since he’d started living with his grandfather, who had refused to touch the money left behind by his daughter’s late husband. However, at that moment, Lovino had thought: _I want to go there. That’s the hotel I want to stay in with Antonio._

The reason for why he’d been so drawn to the fancy, expensive hotel might have been the feeling that after working so hard for the past semester, he felt like both he and Antonio deserved some sort of a reward.

After being able to choose English as his major for his next two years of college, Lovino had been filled with a new sense of motivation for his studies. That had enabled him to ace all his 2nd semester assignments, even in subjects like chemistry, where he normally would’ve settled with minimum effort. Antonio, on the other hand, had made steady progress in recovering from his injury, even though his coaches had kept him on the bench for the remainder of the season to make sure he would be fully recovered for the next one.

Another reason for Lovino’s decision could have been that the Italian had wanted to make their first day and night in Spain memorable, for the trip was something that both of them had been looking forward to: Antonio would finally see his mother for the first time since the previous summer, and Lovino would get to see the place where the Spaniard had grown up, the place that the Italian had learned to connect to that nostalgic smile that sometimes appeared on his face.

Lovino let out a soft sigh, letting his head rest on Antonio’s shoulder, which was left bare by the white tank top he was wearing. Another reason why the Italian didn’t mind having Antonio get rid of his button-up shirt as if it had been filled with itching powder was the fact that he liked the feeling of the Spaniard’s warm skin against his own. The Spaniard had his arms wrapped loosely around Lovino’s waist, where they brushed against the Italian’s own arms, which were left bare by his short-sleeved button-up.

Lovino still couldn’t help but to feel slightly amazed at the fact that he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, even if it was something that would have struck a normal person as obvious considering the hot weather. Before, no matter how hot it had been outside, Lovino had always had some sort of a long-sleeved shirt or jacket he would wear on top of his t-shirt, and even the thought of taking it off would have made him feel extremely uncomfortable to the point where he would get the urge to run off to somewhere where nobody could see him.

To most people, that might have come across as silly, but Lovino hadn’t been able to help it that he felt insecure about his small frame and build that was hardly athletic. However, it was Antonio and the way he looked at the Italian like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen that had slowly started to make Lovino feel like he was good enough even with all his shortcomings. Antonio was the reason why Lovino was now able to go outside in a short-sleeved shirt, the reason why he could now look in the mirror without getting an irresistible urge to turn his eyes away even though he could still tell perfectly well that his chest was too skinny, his arms too thin and the bones in his shoulders too visible.

That was because even though he could still see all those flaws, the Italian could also remember the feeling of Antonio’s warm lips trailing kisses across that chest, down those arms and over those shoulders, and that memory alone made all the difference. It didn’t mean that Lovino never felt insecure about himself, or that he’d forgotten about all those times he’d looked in the mirror and seen his own eyebrows knit into a frown that was full of distain towards himself, but he felt like he was slowly learning to accept those feeling and memories as a part of himself instead of feeling ashamed of them.

Those feelings and memories were kind of like the two thin scars just below Antonio’s right kneecap, where his torn meniscus had been operated eight months ago: They would leave a mark that would serve as a reminder of the things he’d struggled with in the past whether he wanted it or not, but just like Antonio would be working hard to get himself back to top shape for the next season now that he had mostly recovered from his injury, Lovino had decided to keep his eyes on the present and the future instead of the past.

The cushioned window seat felt comfortable under Lovino, whose body still felt sore from the long flight. He was leaning his back against Antonio’s firm chest, which rose and fell in a soothingly steady rhythm as the two of them sat in a silence broken only by the soft hum of the ceiling fan. The Italian’s head was tilted to the right so that he could look out from the window, which reached all the way to the ceiling and faced the glimmering swimming pools and the pool-side bar which was already filling up with people. Further ahead, Lovino could see the lights of the city, which spread out as far as he could see and gave the dark night sky above a soft gleam.

“Seeing all this… it makes you feel like the world is so big and you’re just... really small”, Antonio said thoughtfully, resting his cheek against the side of Lovino’s head.

“It makes you think of all the possibilities out there, but it also makes you feel kind of…”

Lovino looked at the colorful city lights that spread out as far as he could see, all the way to the glimmering horizon.

“…lonely”, the Italian finished Antonio’s sentence, mumbling the words almost as if he were talking to himself, although there was no way Antonio hadn’t heard him with the two of them being snuggled so close to each other.

A moment passed in silence, and all Lovino could hear was the quiet hum of the ceiling fan and the soothingly familiar sound of Antonio’s breathing next to his ear. Then the Spaniard tightened his hold around his waist, pulling him even closer against his warm chest and nuzzling his face against his neck. Lovino could tell that was what Antonio had been about to say as well, that Antonio understood exactly what he meant.

“But not anymore”, the Spaniard said quietly, and even though he couldn’t see his face, the Italian could hear the warm smile in his voice.

Lovino closed his eyes, wondering briefly how it was possible that everything about Antonio was always so warm: his touch, his voice, his smile… That warmth enveloped Lovino and seeped into his heart as he sat there, resting his body against Antonio and knowing that there was no other place he would have rather been in, no other place that could have made him feel so safe and comfortable as the Spaniard’s warm embrace.

“Yeah, not anymore”, he mumbled softly, feeling his own lips spread into a small, contented smile.

**xxx**

For the last three hours, the road to Antonio’s home village was narrow and bumpy, flanked by endless fields on both sides, some growing corn or wheat or other type of crops, some accommodating herds of cows or sheep that wandered about leisurely while munching on patches of grass. Every once in a while, they drove past a small village where a church built from grey and brown stone stood out from a cluster of small houses with overgrown gardens blooming with colorful flowers.

The man who had come to pick them up from the hotel was an acquaintance of Antonio’s mother. He was about Lovino’s height, probably in his mid-forties, dressed in a collared t-shirt and a pair of beach shorts. He had greeted the two with a friendly smile on the hotel’s parking lot, but during the car trip he’d mostly remained quietly scanning the road ahead, showing no signs of the Spanish talkativeness that the Italian had instinctively prepared himself for. The car was an old Renault with partly peeled-off light blue paint and shock absorbers that probably hadn’t been replaced since the car had been fresh form the factory, for each bump in the road made Lovino feel very thankful for the fact that he didn’t get motion sickness very easily like his brother. 

After a total of five hours of car travel, they finally arrived in Antonio’s home village. Compared to the countless villages they’d passed on their way, Lovino found this one to be slightly bigger in size but otherwise very similar with its small stone houses with red-tiled roofs and the church in the center. Antonio pointed out the soccer field he’d used to spend most of his free time on, the elementary and middle school buildings, and the high school, which was attended also by kids from neighboring villages. Then, after a few more minutes along the main road and then a turn to the right, they finally arrived in front of Antonio’s childhood house.

The first thing that Lovino noticed when he looked at the house were the blue, yellow and purple flowers planted in the various wooden boxes and ceramic pots along the wall, reminding the Italian of the blooming meadows they’d just seen on their way. Even as the low rumble of the car engine finally died down for the first time in hours, making everything suddenly feel strangely silent, Lovino found it hard to get his eyes off the multitude of flowers that flanked the rough stone wall of the small house.

“My mother likes gardening.”

Antonio’s soft voice broke the silence, making Lovino break out from his momentary state of wonder. It was only then that the Italian became aware of the smile that had formed on his lips as he’d admired the flowers.

“They’re beautiful.”

Antonio returned his smile before they finally climbed out from the car and into the bright midday sunshine. Lovino only had time to have the fleeting thought that the temperature must have been at least 100 degrees before his attention was caught by the sudden opening of the front door. 

The woman standing in the doorway was wearing a long brown skirt and a peach colored shirt with the sleeves rolled up as if she’d just finished doing garden work. She had the same rich brown hair as Antonio, only with a few strands of grey visible in the bright daylight, but her complexion was notably darker than Antonio’s, undoubtedly from the frequent exposure to sunlight. However, the thing that made it obvious to Lovino that the woman he was looking at was Antonio’s mother was the genuine, bright smile that had formed on her face the moment she’d laid her eyes on the arrivals.

Lovino stayed back as he let Antonio greet his mother by exchanging kisses on the cheeks with her before letting her carefully study his face for a moment as if searching for any changes from the last time she’d seen him. Knowing how much the two must have missed each other, Lovino didn’t want to interrupt their reunion. However, he hadn’t spent long awkwardly standing by the car before Antonio’s mother released her son from the embrace she’d enveloped him in, in turn focusing her eyes on Lovino.

Even though Lovino couldn’t help but to feel nervous at the attention he was receiving, he noticed that while Antonio’s mother’s eyes were brown instead of green, they held the same warm sparkle as her son’s.

“ _Mamá,_ this is Lovino.”, Antonio said, following his mother by turning his eyes to the Italian. “Lovino, this is my mother.”

Lovino could’ve sworn that the smile on Antonio’s face was brighter than the midday sun, for the hot weather was nothing compared to the warmth that smile filled the Italian with. Trying to resist the familiar melting sensation that the Spaniard’s smile evoked in him, Lovino finally stepped forward, letting Antonio take him by the hand as he briefly wondered if this was how the Spaniard had been feeling when he’d stood in front of Lovino’s grandpa for the first time.

“Nice… Nice to meet you”, he said after copying the way Antonio had exchanged cheek-kisses with his mother. Up close, he noted that there were many more lines on Antonio’s mother’s face than he’d initially noticed, but they did nothing to dampen the warm smile that reached all the way to her bright, brown eyes.

“It’s my pleasure, dear”, she said, with so much sincerity in her voice that Lovino didn’t have to doubt for a second whether she meant it not. “Toni’s told me so much about you.”

The second statement made Lovino feel slightly flustered, and he was careful not to accidentally look at Antonio, whom he was sure was grinning at him from where he stood by his side.

Antonio’s mother proceeded to exchange a few Spanish phrases with the man who had picked the boys up from the hotel, thanking him for the favor and inviting him to join them for dinner later, if the Italian understood the rapid Spanish correctly. Then she ushered the two inside through the narrow doorway flanked by two large flower pots, announcing that she had prepared Antonio’s room for them and that lunch would be ready once they’d settled in.

She seemed to be full of lively energy as she headed to the kitchen after flashing one more warm smile at the two boys, filling the small house with a cozy and welcoming atmosphere. Lovino couldn’t help it that he felt a twinge of pain as he was reminded of his own mother, who had possessed a similar lively spirit when he had been small, even though he had later on come to understand how difficult her relationship with her husband had been at that time. As the Italian now realized, it was the spirit of a mother who was prepared to do anything to grant her children a warm and loving home, no matter how many struggles she had to go through in her own life.

As he took in the modest but well-kempt interior of Antonio’s bedroom, Lovino thought back to the day when Antonio had told him about his father who had left him and his mother in poverty and about the countless part-time jobs his mother had had to take in order to provide for herself and her son. Then he thought of the woman he’d met just a moment ago, the woman whose bright, sparkling eyes and warm smile were full of love and vivacious energy regardless of the premature age lines on her face. A smile appeared on the Italian’s face as he faced Antonio, now understanding what the Spaniard had meant when he’d said that his mother was one of the strongest people he had ever met.

As they sat around the kitchen table, Lovino couldn’t help but to think about how happy and _whole_ the atmosphere was, as it did not feel like there should be somebody sitting in one of the empty chairs, somebody whose absence could be felt as a cold emptiness in the whole room. That was what it had felt like all those years when Lovino had been living with Grandpa Roma and Feliciano after his mother’s death, or at least until last Christmas break, when the presence of Antonio by his side had filled at least part of that emptiness.

Lovino could still hardly believe that the relaxed and comfortable atmosphere of the Christmas Eve hadn’t, against all odds, been destroyed by the moment when his grandfather had stood up and announced that he wanted to talk to Antonio in private. He could still remember the way his muscles had tensed in apprehension at is grandfather’s announcement, how his eyes had darted from the old man’s resolute expression to Antonio and then back as a sudden sense of helplessness had glued him to the sofa, where he could only watch as the two men left the apartment, leaving him alone with his brother.

He had been fully aware of the fact that if Grandpa Roma had made up his mind, there was nothing he would be able to do to stop him from talking to Antonio, even if the thought of the Spaniard knowing about his past made his stomach twist with anxiety. He would have probably spent the whole time staring at the front door of the apartment, waiting as the minutes ticked by before his grandfather and Antonio would come back and he’d finally see the Spaniard’s face, he’d finally see if one of his worst fears had come true that night.

However, he hadn’t had time to stare at the door for more than five seconds before his brother had said something that had forced him to move his eyes from the worn-out wooden surface of the door to fix them at the young Italian instead. 

_“He loves you, Lovi. There’s nothing Grandpa can say that could change that.”_

After saying that in an oddly soothing tone full of certainty, Feliciano had proceeded to scoot closer to Lovino on the sofa, letting his head fall on the older Italian’s shoulder. Lovino had been too dazed to even attempt to push his younger brother off himself, as it was already the second time in a few months that he was being offered words of reassurance by his silly younger brother, words of reassurance that actually managed to _reassure_ him.

It was not so much the embarrassment of having his _younger_ brother comfort him that had occupied his mind at that moment, but instead it had been the question w _hen did Feliciano start to resemble Mother so much?_ that had filled his chest with an all too familiar ache. He had already started to feel the burn of unshed tears in his eyes when Feliciano had decided to lift his head up from his shoulder, leaning forward on the sofa to reach for the nearly full bottle of wine on the table. That had effectively directed Lovino’s thoughts from his mother and the conversation that his grandfather was having outside with Antonio to the last time when his brother had been left unsupervised with a bottle of wine, reminding him of his responsibilities as the older brother.

After that night, he had more than once thought that he should have told Antonio about his past himself instead of letting someone else do it for him. He should have mustered up the courage to do it much earlier, and yet he had kept pushing it off, even though he knew that he trusted Antonio, he knew that Antonio deserved to know, and he even knew that it would probably make Lovino _himself_ feel better if he told him everything, the same way that mentioning his mother’s death had lightened the burden on his shoulders before.

However, at the same time, he had been unable to completely shake off the fear that what if telling Antonio would make the Spaniard look at him with that pitying look that Lovino hated so much, like he was something fragile that had to be handled carefully or else he would break. That fear had refused to completely disappear, no matter how much he’d tried to convince himself that Antonio would still treat him the same, that Antonio wasn’t like the relatives he had visited with Grandpa Roma and Feliciano in Italy when he’d been younger.

In the end, that fear had indeed proved to be futile. Antonio had never even once given him that look of pity, but instead he had continued to be there for him whenever he was feeling sad or insecure, he had treated him with the same love and compassion as before the Christmas break, before even learning about his mother’s death or anything else in his past for that matter. To Antonio, his past didn’t seem to matter, and that, as the Italian had come to realize, was what enabled him to feel so free when he was around the Spaniard. He had come to realize that if his past didn’t determine who he was to Antonio, why should he let it determine who he was to himself?

The Italian took another bite of the Spanish omelette that Antonio’s mother had prepared for lunch, enjoying the delicious home-cooked food and the refreshing breeze that reached him whenever the fan in the corner of the room turned to his direction. Knowing how much the mother and the son must have missed each other, Lovino mostly just listened to their conversation while letting his eyes wander around the worn-out but tidy kitchen that was brightly lit by the sunshine coming in through the mosquito nets covering the windows, and the small, blooming garden outside.

“Toni, your friend Lucas came by last Friday to look for you”, Antonio’s mother said, causing Lovino to turn his eyes to her at the mention of the name that the Italian knew belonged to the Spaniard’s best friend from high school.

“I told him you’d come home today, and he seemed quite excited to see you.” The woman smiled at Antonio, then turned to Lovino, the corners of her eyes crinkling as her smile became wider. “He’s looking forward to meeting you too, Lovino.”

Lovino blushed at her words and the good-humored smirk playing on her lips, causing Antonio to let out a delighted laugh.

“I can’t wait to introduce you to him”, the Spaniard said, his excitement apparent from the way his eyes sparkled as he grinned at the Italian sitting beside him.

**xxx**

It was long into the afternoon when Lovino and Antonio finally made their way through the small village to see Antonio’s friend from high school. They walked along the same road that they’d earlier driven through while Antonio told the Italian some stories from the times when he’d still lived there, a familiar nostalgic smile playing on his lips. There were more people outside now, probably because the sun was no longer burning as mercilessly as during the day, instead casting a soft, orange light on the village and its inhabitants.

Most of the people they walked past seemed to know Antonio, and they stopped to exchange a few words with them before continuing their walk. The way everyone was so friendly made Lovino think that it was no wonder that Antonio had such a bright personality, considering that he’d grown up in this village: The atmosphere was just so much like Antonio that as he walked those streets with the Spaniard, the Italian could almost imagine a middle-school aged Antonio pass them with a soccer ball tucked under one arm, his other hand rising up into an enthusiastic wave and his lips spreading into that impossibly bright smile of his.

When the two of them finally arrived at Antonio’s friend’s place, Lovino stepped aside to let the Spaniard greet his old friend. He instantly recognized the boy as the one who had stood next to Antonio in the team photo taped to one of his cabinet doors in his campus flat: He was about Lovino’s height, with a slim but clearly athletic build and dark, curly hair that hung over his equally dark eyes.

“This is Lovino, my boyfriend”, Antonio said after hugging his friend, reaching out with his hand to pull the Italian closer to him, until he stood by the Spaniard’s side.

“¡ _Hola amigo_!”

The grin that had been on the boy’s face from the moment he’s seen them never left his face as he shook Lovino’s hand eagerly, reminding the Italian of the time when Antonio had first introduced him to Alfred. From up close, Lovino noticed a constellation of freckles around his pointy nose, although they were barely discernible due to his tan skin. The slightly hyperactive air he had to himself along with his wide, slightly mischievous grin made the Italian think of the typical high school troublemaker, but the look in his eyes was friendly enough to convince him that he wasn’t like the bullies he’d encountered during his high school years.

“I’m Lucas, Toni’s best buddy from high school!”

Lovino blinked, looking at the boy in front of him again as if to confirm that he really wasn’t talking to Antonio’s eccentric team captain. From the amused laugh that the Spaniard let out from beside him, he figured that he knew exactly what was going on in his mind.

“I’m so proud of you, Toni!” Lucas exclaimed then as he turned his attention back to his old friend. “I have to admit though that I almost didn’t believe it when your mom told me you finally had a boyfriend!”

The shorter Spaniard punched Antonio in the arm in what Lovino supposed was a playful manner, his face bright with excitement. Lovino couldn’t help but to think that this boy was like a combination of Alfred’s and Feliciano’s personalities, which was a rather terrifying thought as just one of one of the two was already more than enough to handle. Only after he had brushed the thought off his mind, Lovino could fully process Lucas’s words, which caused his brow to suddenly crease in confusion.

Finally? Did that mean that Antonio had never dated anyone before? The two of them hadn’t really talked about their past dating experiences or whether or not they had any, but knowing how people tended to look at the Spaniard when he walked around campus, Lovino had always thought that he must have been popular in high school as well – his looks alone would have been enough to make him stand out, but topped with his skill in soccer he was bound to be a target of a lot of admiration.

The dark-haired Spaniard in front of him had apparently read his mind, as he let out an amused laugh.

“It’s not that he wasn’t popular in high school”, he said, shaking his head in amusement. “The number of people who confessed to him was insane… It was like at least half the school wanted to date him, and you can just imagine what it was like to be his best friend…”

Lucas shook his head again, this time in disgust, presumably thinking about all the love letters he had been asked to deliver to Antonio while Lovino gave the taller Spaniard a questioning raise of his eyebrow.

“He even agreed to go out with a few people”, Lucas continued, tilting his head to the side as he thought back to their high school times. “But it never led to anything.”

Lovino raised both of his eyebrows at Antonio, only earning a mysterious smirk in return.

“That’s because I only belong with Lovino, I knew it from the moment I met him.”

Lovino’s face flushed bright red, and he quickly covered it with his hands, cursing at the Spaniard from behind his fingers while he heard Lucas burst out in laughter, either at his friend’s overly sappy statement or the reaction it had evoked in the Italian.

“Toni…” Lucas breathed, his shoulders still shaking from laughter even as he tried to compose himself. “I should’ve guessed… I should’ve guessed you’d be the cheesy type”, he finally managed to say while wiping away a tear that had escaped his eye during his uncontrollable fit of laughing.

“Hey, I was being serious”, Antonio said, and through his parted fingers, Lovino could see the grin he was fixing at him. The fact that he could see the sincerity in the Spaniard’s eyes only made Lovino’s blush deeper, and this time it was the Italian who punched Antonio in the arm.  

“Your knee’s already better, right?” Lucas asked Antonio after a short silence during which Lovino tried to force his face temperature to return to normal.

 “Yeah, I’ll be playing again from the start of the next season”, Antonio said with a smile, the relief and gratitude he felt for his recovery audible in his voice.

Lucas nodded as he returned the smile, but Antonio’s next words caused it to waver a little.

“I read that your team came in third in this year’s cup”, the taller Spaniard said, but before he could congratulate the shorter boy, his brow creased as he noticed the change in his friend’s expression. Instead, he raised a questioning eyebrow at him while tilting his head slightly to the side.

The earlier so energetic and talkative boy slowly rubbed his neck with his right hand, suddenly having difficulty facing Antonio. He seemed to contemplate what to say as the three of them stood in expectant silence for a while longer, until the shorter Spaniard finally spoke.

“I’m not continuing in the soccer team next season”, he finally said, his eyes fixed at the ground before his feet while his hand shifted from his neck to the curly hair at back of his head.

“What?” Antonio asked, clearly taken aback by the shorter boy’s words.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love soccer”, Lucas quickly said before again pausing to search for the right words.

“It’s just that…”, he faltered off, then finally lifted his eyes from the ground, finding the courage to face his old teammate before letting his look drop down again. The only word Lovino could think of to describe the look he’d seen in the other boy’s eyes was _guilty._

“You know what it’s like on this level - there’s a lot of pressure to succeed and a lot of the guys are aiming to go pro”, Lucas explained while keeping his eyes fixed at the ground before his feet.

Antonio nodded slowly, and as the Italian watched him study his shorter friend, he thought he saw a look of understanding make its way to his face.

“I want to focus on my studies, and I don’t feel like I have the same motivation as most of the other guys” Lucas said, and Lovino could tell that saying it aloud lifted a heavy weight off his chest.

“That’s why… I thought I’d leave becoming a pro to you, Toni.”

Lucas lifted his eyes off the ground for the second time, casting a careful glance at his friend from under the dark curls falling on his forehead. Lovino noticed the way the shorter Spaniard visibly relaxed at the understanding expression that had settled on Antonio’s face, as if he had been fearing the reaction that his revelation would evoke in his old teammate.

“I’ll trust you to become a great engineer one day, then”, Antonio said, smiling at his friend to show him that he supported his decision.

“But for now…”, he continued, his smile turning into a playful smirk, “what do you say we head to the field to play for the old times’ sake?”

After Lucas readily agreed to Antonio’s idea, the three of them headed together to the soccer field, where a friendly match was taking place between what Lovino assumed to be students from the local high school. Kids of various ages were standing and sitting around the field, cheering on the players while chatting and laughing among each other. Somebody was playing Shakira’s _La La La_ from a portable speaker, just loud enough to be heard over the lively sounds of the soccer match, the cheering and the chattering.

Lovino only had around two seconds to take in the scene he’d walked into before the firmly build boy playing goalie for one of the teams recognized Antonio, immediately abandoning his position in front of the goal – which was an actual soccer goal instead of the two rocks that had been used during Antonio’s time in the village – quickly striding to where the three boys were standing. The boy might have seemed intimidating with his strong features and well-defined muscles left bare by the loose tank top he was wearing if not for the wide grin that had spread on his face the moment he had seen Antonio.

Someone from the opposing team used the chance to kick the ball in the now unguarded goal, but it didn’t take long before everybody seemed to forget about the game as people all around the field noticed the new arrivals. Before Lovino had much time to prepare himself, he, Antonio and Lucas were surrounded by people who were yelling their greetings at Antonio, who did his best to exchange hugs or fist bumps or high-fives with everyone who approached him.

At first, everyone seemed to be too excited to see Antonio to even notice Lovino’s presence, which the Italian was rather thankful for, as being surrounded by a noisy crowd was stressful enough for him even without him being the center of everyone’s attention. However, after most of the people had exchanged their greetings with the Spaniard, they finally started to notice who he was accompanied by. The number of curious eyes starting to focus on him made the Italian very aware of his auburn hair and skin tone that was notably lighter than that of the people around him, making him instantly stand out as a foreigner.

It didn’t take long before Antonio too turned his eyes to Lovino, offering him a reassuring smile before reaching out to take his hand into his own. Before the Italian fixed his look at the ground before his feet, as it was much easier to look at than the crowd around him, he could see the looks of understanding that appeared on the people’s faces at the Spaniard’s gesture. He listened as Antonio shortly introduced him, and when he next lifted up his look, he was surprised to see that instead of the looks of jealousy and disbelief that many of his classmates had assumed when they’d learned about his relationship with the Spaniard, the looks that were now being fixed at him were mostly friendly, apart from the few girls who looked a little disappointed.

As everyone finally started to prepare for a new game of soccer, this time with Antonio and Lucas joining in, Lovino went to find himself a spot on the sidelines where he would be able to watch the game. He sat down on the warm tarmac, thinking to himself that people in Antonio’s home village seemed to be much nicer than most of the people he’d met so far. However, just when it looked like everyone had agreed on who should be on which team, Antonio, whose team was short of one member, left his teammates to make his way to Lovino. He came to a halt right in front of the Italian, extending his hand with a small smile on his face.

“Come on”, he said as his smile widened into that grin of his that was surely brighter than the warm, orange light of the late afternoon sun behind him.

 “You’re joining us, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that this story has officially come to an end, I want to thank all my readers again - whether you've stuck with me through the whole year that it took me to complete this story or whether you just discovered it now. Knowing that there are people out there who enjoy my writing has been very encouraging, and I'd very much appreciate it if you told me your final thoughts on this story now that it's all wrapped up!
> 
> Anyway, than you again for reading and I hope you have a great day or night and the best of luck in whatever you're doing - if I'm able to write a fanfic of 80k+ words, I'm sure you can surprise yourself with what you can do as well!


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